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.• 



“ ‘So here s to Dr. Redfield Pepper BurnSy hearer of a 
heavier cross than I have ever borne, and winner of one 
more shining . . / ” 


RED AND BLACK 


By GRACE S;- RICHMOND 


Author of 

“Mrs. Red Pepper^*’ **Red Pepper Burns,** 
“Red Pepper* s Patients** “Twenty-Fourth of June** 
Etc. 

J 



WITH FRONTISPIECE BY 

FRANCES ROGERS 


A. L, BURT COMPANY 
Publishers New York 

Published by arrangement with Doubleday, Page & Company 



COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF 
TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, 
INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 




^ ^ ^ 
z z- 

Eeplacoment 





••1 


COPYRIGHT, IQI9, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 


TO 

^'MY BEST FRIENDS*" 






CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

1 . Across the Space 3 

II. Headlines 17 

III. No Anaesthetic 31 

IV. Nobody to Say a Prayer 48 

V. Plain as a Pikestaff 63 

VI. High Lights 80 

VII. Rather a Big Thing 99 

VIII. Spendthrifts 117 

IX. “Burn, Fire, Burn!” 134 

X. A Shifting of Honours 153 

XI. A Long April Night 174 

XII. Everybody Plots 192 

XIII. A Great Gash 212 

XIV. Something to Remember 233 

XV. Quicksilver in a Tube 255 

XVI. The Altar of His Purpose 276 

XVII. No Other Way 291 

XVIII. At Four in the Morning 307 

XIX. A Scarlet Feather 328 

XX. A Happy Warrior 341 

XXL A Peal of Bells 354 

XXII. In His Name 370 

XXIII. The Town Was Empty Before . . . 376 



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RED AND BLACK 


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RED AND BLACK 


CHAPTER I 


ACROSS THE SPACE 



HEIR first sight of each other — Red and Black — was 


A across the space which stretches between pulpit and 
pew. It"s sometimes a wide space, and impassable; again, 
it’s not far, and the lines of communication are always 
open. In this case, neither of them knew, as yet, just 
what the distance was. 

Black — Robert McPherson Black — if you want his full 
name, had been a bit nervous in the vestry where he put 
on his gown. He had been preaching only five years, and 
that in a Southern country parish, when a visiting commit- 
tee of impressive looking men had come to listen to him — ■ 
had come again — and once more — and then had startled 
him with a call to the big suburban town and the fine 
old, ivy-grown church generally known as the “Stone 
Church.” 

“But, gentlemen,” he had said, swinging about quickly 
in his study chair when Mr. Lockhart, the chairman of the 
committee, had asked him if he would consider a call— 
“I’m — I’m — why, I’m not good enough for you!” 

The committee had smiled — it was quite a remarkable 
committee, and had a sense of humour. At least Samuel 
Lockhart had, and one other of the five who were waiting 
upon Mr. Black in his study after the evening service. 


3 


4 


RED AND BLACK 

“Meaning virtue — or ability?” inquired the chairman, 
with his friendly smile. 

“Both. You see — well, to put it honestly — Fm just 
a country boy as yet, born in Scotland and brought up in 
your South. I haven’t had the training ” 

“Very good things have come out of the country — and 
Scotland — and the South,” Mr. John Radway had sug- 
gested. “And I believe you are a graduate of — a perfectly 
satisfactory college and seminary, and have built this 
church up from desertion to popularity ” 

Well, they had had it out on those lines, and others, in 
the next hour, the committee falling more and more in love 
with its candidate — if so emotional a phrase may be used 
of the feelings stirred in the breasts of five middle-aged, 
steady-going, sensible men — as they watched the young 
man’s face go from pale to red and back again, and heard 
him tell them not only what he thought he was not, but 
what he thought they might not be either — in so frank and 
winning a way that the more he wasn’t sure he’d better 
come the surer they were he must! 

In the end he came — called and accepted, after the mod** 
ern methods, wholly on the judgment of the committee, 
for he had refused absolutely and finally to come and 
preach a candidating sermon. So when he emerged from 
the vestry door, on that first May Sunday, he faced for 
the first time his newly acquired congregation, and the 
church faced for the first time its minister-elect. Which 
was wholly as tt should be, and the result was a tremen- 
dously large audience, on tiptoe with interest and curiosity. 

Red was not in the congregation when Black first came 
In through the vestry door. Instead, as usual, he was 
racing along the road in a very muddy car, trying to make 
four calls in the time in which he should really have made 


ACROSS THE SPACE 5 

two, because his wife had insisted very strenuously that 
he should do his best to get to church on that particular 
morning. It seemed that she had learned that the new 
minister was from the South, and she, being a Southerner, 
naturally felt an instant sense of loyalty. It was mighty 
seldom that Red could ever be got to church, not so much 
because he didn’t want to go — ^though he didn’t, really, un- 
less the man he was to hear was exceptio'nally good — as be- 
cause he couldn’t get around to it, not once in a blue moon 
— or a Sunday morning sun. And if, by strenuous exertion, 
he did arrive at church, there was one thing which almost 
invariably happened — so what was the use? The young 
usher for Doctor Burns’ aisle always grinned when he saw 
him come in, because he knew perfectly that within a very 
short time, he, the usher, would be tiptoeing down the 
aisle and whispering in the ear below the heavy thatch of 
close-cropped, fire-red hair. And -then Doctor Burns’ 
attending church for that day would be over. 

The chances seemed fair, however, on this particular 
morning, because Red did not come into church till the 
j>reliminary service was well along. He stole in while the 
congregation was on its feet singing a hymn, so his entrance 
was not conspicuous; but Black saw him, just the same. 
Black had already seen every man in the congregation, 
though he had noted individually but few of the women. 
He saw this big figure, stalwart yet well set up; he saw the 
red head — he could hardly help that — it would be a land- 
mark in any audience. He saw also the brilliant hazel 
eyes, the strong yet finely cut face. To put it in a word, 
as Redfield Pepper Burns came into the crowded church, 
his personality reached out ahead of him and struck the 
man in the pulpit a heavy blow over the heart. Too 
strong a phrase? Not a bit of it. If the thing has never 


6 


RED AND BLACK 


happened to you, then you’re not a witness, and your testi- 
mony doesn’t count. But plenty of witnesses can be 
found. 

Robert Black looked down the aisle, and instantly cov- 
eted this man for a friend. “I’ve got to have you,” he 
said within himself, while the people went on singing the 
last stanza of a great hymn. “I’ve got to have you for 
a friend. I don’t know who else may be in this parish 
but as long as yov!re here there’ll be something worth the 
very best I can do. I wonder if you’ll be easy to get. I 
■ — doubt it.” ^ 

Now this was rather strange, for the family with whom 
he was staying while the manse was being put in order for 
the new minister had spoken warmly of Doctor Burns as 
the man whom they always employed, plainly showing 
their affection for him, and adding that half the town 
adored the red-headed person in question. When that 
red head came into church late, looking as professional as 
such a man can’t possibly help looking, it was easy enough 
for Black to guess that this was Doctor Burns. 

Across the space, then, they faced each other, these two, 
whose lives were to react so powerfully, each upon the 
other — and only one of them guessed it. To tell the truth. 
Red was more than a little weary that Sunday morning; 
he was not just then electrically sensitive, like the other 
man, to every impression — he was not that sort of man, 
anyhow. He had been up half the night, and his hair- 
trigger temper — which had inspired the nickname he had 
carried from boyhood — had gone off in a loud explosion 
within less than an hour before he appeared in the church. 
He was still inwardly seething slightly at the recollection, 
though outwardly he had returned to calm. Altogether, 
he was not precisely in a state of mind to gaze with favour 


ACROSS THE SPACE 


7 

upon the new man in the pulpit, who struck him at once as 
disappointingly young. He had been told by somebody 
that Robert McPherson Black was thirty-five, but his 
first swift glance convinced him that Robert had not 
been strictly truthful about his age — or else had encour- 
aged an impression that anybody with half an eye could 
see was a wrong one. He was quite evidently a boy — a 
mere boy. Burns liked boys — but not in the pulpit, at- 
tempting to take charge of his life and tell him what to do. 

Therefore Red looked with an indifferent eye upon the 
tall figure standing to read the Scriptures, but acknowledged 
in his mind that the youth had a pleasing face and per- 
sonality — Red liked black hair and eyes — ^he had married 
them, and had never ceased to prefer that colouring to any 
other. He admitted to himself that the intonations of 
Black’s voice were surprisingly deep and manly for such 
a boy — and then promptly closed his mind to further 
impressions, and ran his hand through his red hair and 
breathed a heavy sigh of fatigue. Vigorous fellow though 
he was at forty years, it was necessary for him to get an oc- 
casional night’s sleep to even things up. If it hadn’t been 
for his wife’s urging he might have been snatching forty 
winks this minute on a certain comfortable wide daven- 
port at home. These Southerners — how they did hang 
together — and Black wasn’t a real Southerner, either, 
having spent his boyhood in Scotland. Red could have 
heard the new man quite as well next Sunday — or the one 
after. He glanced sidewise at his wife, and his irritation 
faded — as it always did at the mere sight of her. How 
lovely she was this morning, in her quiet church attire. 
Bless her heart — if she wanted him there he was glad he 
had come. And of course it was best for the children 
that they see their father in church now and then. . . . 


8 


RED AND BLACK . 

But he hoped the boy in the pulpit would not make too 
long a prayer — he, Red, was so deadly sleepy, he might 
go to sleep and disgrace Ellen. It wouldn’t be the first 
time. 

But he didn’t hear the prayer — and not because he went 
to sleep. It was during the offertory sung by the expensive 
quartette (which he didn’t like at all because he knew the 
tenor for a four flusher and the contralto for a little blonde 
fool, who sometimes got him up in the night for her hys- 
teric^ — though he admitted she could sing), that the 
young usher came tiptoeing down the aisle and whispered 
the customary message in the ear beneath the red thatch. 
Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns had been in church precisely 
eleven minutes this time before being called out. What 
in thunder was the use of his coming at all? He gave an 
I-told-you-so look at his wife as he got up and hung his 
overcoat on his arm and went up the aisle again, his com- 
petent shoulders followed by the disappointed gaze of 
Black from the pulpit. The doors closed behind him, 
and the young usher exhibited his watch triumphantly 
to another young usher, making signs as of one who had 
won a bet. Eleven minutes was the shortest time since 
February, when on a certain remembered Sunday Burns 
had never got to his seat at all, but had been followed 
down the aisle by the usher practically on a run. Some- 
body had got himself smashed up by a passing trolley al- 
most outside the door of the sanctuary. Being an usher 
certainly had its compensations at times. 

Yes, Black was disappointed. Of course he faced a large 
and interested congregation, and everybody knows that a 
minister should not be more anxious to preach to one man 
than to another. Unfortunately, being quite human, he 
sometimes is. On this occasion, having suffered that blow 


ACROSS THE SPACE 9 

over the heart before mentioned, he had found himself 
suddenly peculiarly eager to speak to the red-headed 
doctor — from the pulpit — and convince him that he him- 
self was not as young as he looked — and that he could be a 
very good friend. Red looked to him like the sort of man 
who needed a friend, In spite of all Black’s hostess had said 
to him about Burns’ popularity and his enormous profes- 
sional practice. During those eleven minutes, through 
part of which Black had been at leisure to glance several 
times at Red, he had received the distinct impression 
that he was looking at a much overworked man, who 
needed certain things rather badly — one of which was an- 
other man who was not just a good-fellow sort of friend, 
but one who understood at least a little of what life meant 
— and what it ought to mean. 

Thus thinking Black rose to make his prayer — the 
prayer before the sermon. His thoughts about Red had 
made him forget for a little that he was facing his new 
congregation — and that was a good thing, for it had taken 
away most of his nervousness. And after the prayer 
came the sermon — and after the sermon came a very 
wonderful strain of music which made Black lift his head 
toward the choir above him with a sense of deep gratitude 
that music existed and could help him in his task like that. 
At this time, of course, he didn’t know about the ‘Tour- 
flusher” tenor, and the little fool of a blonde contralto 
who always felt most like smiling at the moment when he 
was preaching most earnestly. When he did know — • 
well — in the end there were two new members of that 
quartette. 

So this was how Black and Red met for the first time — 
yet did not meet. Though, after the seeing of Red across 
the as yet undetermined distance between pulpit and pew. 


lO 


RED AND BLACK 


there followed a thousand other impressions, and though 
after the service Black met any number of interesting look- 
ing men and women who shook his hand and gave him 
cordial welcome, the memory he carried away with him 
was that of R. P. Burns, M.D., as the man he must at any 
cost come to know intimately. 

As for Red — his impression was another story. 

“Well, how did the Kid acquit himself?’’ he Inquired, 
when he met his family at the customary early afternoon 
Sunday dinner. There was quite a group about the 
table, for his wife’s sister, Martha Macauley, her husband, 
James Macauley, and their children were there. All these 
people had been presejit at the morning service. 

Macauley, ever first to reply to any question addressed 
to a company in general, spoke jeeringly, turning his 
round, good-humoured face toward his host: 

“Why not fee young Perkins to leave you in your pew 
for once, and hear for yourself? I’ve known you turn 
down plenty of calls when they took you away from home, 
but, come to think of it, I never knew you to refuse to cut 
and run from church!” 

Burns frowned. “You’re not such a devoted worship- 
per yourself, Jim, that you can act truant officer and get 
away with it. If you knew how I hated to move out of 
that pew this morning ” 

“Yes, you’d got all set for one of those head-up snoozes 
you take when the sermon bores you. Well, let me tell 
you, if you’d stayed, you wouldn’t have got any chance 
to sleep. He may be a kid — though he doesn’t look so 
much like one when you get close — lines in his face if you 
notice — he may be a kid, but he’s got the goods, and by 
George, he delivered ’em this morning all right. Sleep! 
I wasn’t over and above wide awake myself through the 


II 


ACROSS THE SPACE 

preliminaries, but I found myself sitting up with a jerk 
when he let go his first bolt.” 

‘‘Bolt, eh?” Burns began to eat his soup with relish. 
As it happened he had had no time for breakfast, and this 
was his first meal of the day. “Jolly, this is good soup!” 
he said. “Well! — I thought they always spoke softly 
when they first came, and only fired up later. Didn’t he 
begin on the ‘Dear Brethren, I’m pleased to be with you’ 
line? I thought he looked rather conventional myself — • 
and abominably young. I’m not fond of green salad.” 

“Green salad!” This was Martha Macauley, flushing 
and indignant. “Why, he’s a man, Red, and a very fine 
one, if I’m any judge. And he can preach — oh, how he 
can preach!” 

“I’m not asking any woman, Marty.” Burns gave his 
sister-in-law a cynical little smile. “Trust any woman 
to fall for a handsome young preacher with black eyes 
and a good voice, whatever he says. To be sure, El- 
len ” 

“Oh, yes — you think Ellen is the only woman in the 
world with any sense. Well, let me tell you Len ‘fell 
for him,’ just as much as I did — only she never gives 
herself away, and probably won’t now, if you ask her.” 

Burns’ eyes met his wife’s. “Like him, eh, Len?” he 
asked. “Did the black eyes — and his being a Southerner 
— get you, too?” 

Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns was an unusual woman. 
If she had not been, at this challenge, she would have 
answered one of two things. Either she would have said 
defiantly: “I certainly did like him — why shouldn’t I, 
when Jim did — and he^s a. man! Why are you always 
prejudiced against ministers?” or she would have said 
softly: “If you had heard him, dear, I think you wouM 


12 


RED AND BLACK 

have liked him yourself.” Instead she answered, as a 
man might — only she was not in the least like a man — 
“It’s hard to tell how one likes any minister at first sight. 
It’s not the first sermon, but the twentieth, that tells the 
story. And plenty of other things besides the preach- 
ing.” 

“But you certainly got a good first impression, Len.?” 
Martha cried, at the same moment that James Macauley 
chuckled, “My, but that was a clever stall!” 

Mrs. Burns smiled at her husband, whose hazel eyes 
were studying her intently. Red never ceased to wonder 
at the way people didn’t succeed in cornering Ellen. She 
might find her way out with a smile alone, or with a flash 
of those wonderful black-lashed eyes of hers, but find her 
way out she always did. She found it now. 

“Mr. Lockhart told me confidentially this morning 
that Mr. Black said he wasn’t good ^nough for us. So 
at least we have been forewarned. He’ll have to prove 
himself against his own admission.” 

“Wasn’t good enough, eh?” growled Red Pepper, sud- 
denly and characteristically striking fire. “Did he think 
we wanted a 'good one’ — a saint? I don’t, for one. My 
principal objection to him, without having heard him, is 
that he looks as if his mother parted his hair for him before 
he came, and put a clean handkerchief in his pocket. 
Jolly — I like ’em to look less like poets and more like red- 
blooded men ! Not that I want ’em beefy, either. Speak- 
ing of beef — I’ll have another slice. This going to church 
takes it out of a fellow.” 

Jim Macauley howled. “Going to church! Coming 
away, you mean. Just a look-in, for yours. As to the 
way you like your preachers, my private opinion is you 
don’t like ’em at all.” 


ACROSS THE SPACE 


13 


“Mr. Black doesn’t look like a poet, Red.” It was 
Martha Macauley again. She and her brother-in-law sel- 
dom agreed upon any topic. “He has the jolliest twinkle 
in those black eyes — and his hair is so crisp with trying 
to curl that it doesn’t stay parted well at all — it was all 
rumpled up before the end of his sermon. And he has a 
fine, healthy colour — and the nicest smile ” 

Burns sighed. “Jim, suppose there was a man up for 
the governorship in our state, and we went around talking 
about his eyes and his hair and his smile I Oh, Christopher! 
Don’t you women ever think about a man’s brains ? — • 
what he has in his head — not on it?” 

“It was you who began to talk about his looks!” Mrs 
Macauley pointed out triumphantly. 

“Check!” called James, her husband. “She scores. 
Red! You did begin a lot of pretty mean personal ob- 
servations about his mother parting his hair, and so forth. 
Shame! — it wasn’t sporting of you. The preacher has 
brains, brother — brains, I tell you. I saw ’em myself, 
through his skull. And he’s got a pretty little muscle, 
too. When he gripped my hand I felt the bones crack — 
and me a golf player. I don’t know where he got his 
— but he’s got it. These athletic parsons — look out for 
’em. They’re liable to turn the other cheek, according 
to instructions in the Scriptures, and then hit you a crack 
with a good right arm. It struck me this chap hadn’t 
been sitting on cushions all his life. You’ll outweigh him 
by about fifty pounds, but I’ll bet he could down you in a 
wrestling match.” 

“Yes, and I’ll bet you’d like to see him do it,” murmured 
Red Pepper, becoming genial again under the influence 
of his second cup of very strong coffee, which was ban- 
ishing his weariness like magic, as usual. “Well, you 


RED AND BLACK 


H 

won’t right away, because we’re not likely to get to that 
stage of intimacy for some time. Ministers and doctors 
meet mostly in places where each has a good chance to crit- 
icize the other’s job. When I come to die I’d rather have 
my old friend, Max Duller, M.D., to say a prayer for me — 
if he knows how — than any preacher who ever came down 
the pike — except one, and that was a corking old bishop 
who was the best sport I ever met in my life. Oh, it isn’t 
that I don’t respect the profession — I do. But I want a 

minister to be a man as well, and I ” 

‘‘But it isn’t quite fair to take it for granted that he 
isn’t one, is it. Red.?” inquired the charming woman 
at the other side of the table who was his wife. 

James Macauley laughed. “Innocent of not being a 
man till he’s proved guilty, eh. Red?” he suggested. 
“You know I really have quite a strong suspicion that 
this particular minister is a regular fellow. The way he 

looked me in the eye — well — I may be no judge of men ” 

“You’re not,” declared his opponent, frankly. “Any 
chap with a cheerful grin and a plausible line of talk can 
put it all over you. You’re too good-natured to live. 
Now me — I’m a natural born cynic — I see too many faces 

with the mask olF not to be. I ” 

“Yes, you I You’re the kind of cynic who’d sit up all 
night with a preacher or any other man you happened to 
hate, and save his life, and then floor him the first time 
you met him afterward by telling him you hadn’t any bill 
against him because you weren’t a vet’rinary and didn’t 
charge for treating donkeys.” 

“Call that a joke — or an insult?” growled Red Pepper; 
then laughed and switched the subject. 

But next Sunday he did not see fit to get to church 
at all, and on the following Sunday he couldn’t have 


ACROSS THE SPACE 15 

done it if heM tried, not having a minute to breathe in for 
himself while fighting like a fiend to keep the breath of 
life in a fellow-human. And between times he caught 
not a sight of Robert Black, who, however, caught 
several sights of him. R. P. Burns was in the habit of 
driving with his face straight ahead, to avoid bowing 
every other minute to his myriad acquaintances and pa- 
tients. Though Black tried very hard more than once 
to catch his eye when passing him close by the curb, he 
had a view only of the clean-cut profile, the lips usually 
close set, the brows drawn over the intent eyes. For 
Red was accustomed to think out his operative cases while 
on the road, and when a man is mentally making incisions, 
tying arteries, and blocking out the shortest cut to a cure, 
he has little time to be recognizing passing citizens, not to 
mention a preacher whom he persists in considering too 
much of a ‘‘kid’’ for his taste, in the pulpit or out of it. 

But Black, as you have been told, was of Scottish blood, 
and a Scot bides his time. Black meant to know Red, and 
know him well. He was pretty sure that the way to know 
him was not to go and hang around his office, or to call 
upon his wife with Red sure to be away — as Black dis- 
covered he always was, in ordinary calling hours. He 
knew he couldnT go and lay his hand on Red’s shoulder 
at a street corner and tell him he wanted to know him. In 
fact, neither these nor any other of the ordinary methods 
of bringing about an acquaintance with a man as a prelimi- 
nary to a friendship seemed to him to promise well. The 
best he could do was to wait and watch an opportunity, 
and then — well — if he could somehow do something to 
help Red out in a crisis, or even to serve him in some really 
significant way without making any fuss about it, he felt 
that possibly the thing he desired might come about. 


i6 


RED AND BLACK 


Meanwhile — ^that blow over the heart which he had re- 
ceived at the first sight of the big red-headed doctor con- 
tinued to make itself felt. Therefore, while Black went 
with a will at all the new duties of his large parish, ’^and 
made friends right and left — particularly with his men, 
because he liked men and found it easier to get on with 
them thaR with women — he did not for a day relax his 
watch for the time when he should send a counter blow in 
under the guard which he somehow felt was up against 
him, or forget to plan to make it a telling one when he 
should deliver it. 


CHAPTER II 

HEADLINES 

H arps and voices!” ejaculated Robert Black, quite 
unconscious of the source of his poetic expletive, 
‘‘how are my poor little two hundred and thirty-one 
books going to make any kind of a showing here?” 

Small wonder that he looked dismayed. He had just 
caught his first sight of the dignified manse study, with 
its long rows of empty black walnut bookcases stretching, 
five shelves high, across three sides of the large room. 
The manse, fortunately for a bachelor, was furnished 
as to the main necessities of living, but It wanted all the 
details which go to make a home. Though the study con- 
tained a massive black walnut desk and chair, a big 
leather armchair, a luxurious leather couch, and a very 
good and ecclesiastically sombre rug upon its floor, it 
seemed bare enough to a man who had lately left a warm 
little room of nondescript furnishing but most homelike 
atmosphere. To tell the truth. Black was feeling some- 
thing resembling a touch of homesickness which seemed 
to centre in an old high-backed wooden rocking-chair 
cushioned with “Turkey red.” He was wondering if he 
might send for that homely old chair, and if he should, how 
it would look among these dignified surroundings. He 
didn’t care a picayune how it might look — he decided that 
he simply had to have it if he stayed. Which proved that 
it really was homesickness for his country parish which 
^7 


i8 


RED AND BLACK 


had attacked him that morning. Why not? Do you 
think him less of a man for that? 

‘"Oh, yours’ll go quite a way!’* young Tom Lockhart 
assured him cheerfully. “And you can use the rest of the 
space for magazines and papers.” 

“Thanks!” replied Black, rather grimly grateful for 
this comforting suggestion. He and the twenty-year-old 
son of his hostess had become very good friends in the 
two days which had elapsed since Black’s arrival. He had 
an idea that Tom was going to be a distinct asset in the 
days to come. The young man’s fair hair and blue eyes 
were by no means indicative of softness — being counter- 
acted by a pugnacious snub nose, a chin so positive that it 
might easily become a menace, and a grin which decidedly 
suggested impishness. 

“I’ll help unpack these, if you like.” 

Tom laid hold of the books with a will. Black, his coat 
efF, set them up, thereby indisputably demonstrating that 
two hundred and thirty-one volumes, even though a round 
two dozen of them be bulky with learning, certainly do 
fill an inconceivably small space. 

“Well, anyhow,” he said, resting from his labours, and 
determinedly turning away from the embarrassing testi- 
mony of the bookshelves as to his resources, to the invita- 
tion of the massive desk to be equipped with the proper 
appliances to work, “a few pictures and things will help 
to make it look as if somebody lived here. I’ve several 
pretty good photographs and prints I thought I’d frame 
when I got here — I’ve been saving them up for some 
time.” 

He exhibited the collection with pride — they had lain 
across the top of the books. Tom Lockhart hung over 
them critically. 


HEADLINES 19 

‘^They’re bully!’’ was his judgment. “Not a bit 
what I’d have expected. Not a saint or a harp among 
’em. Oh, gee! — that horse race is great! Where’d you 
get that.? I mean — it’s foreign, isn’t it.?” 

Black laughed. “That’s just a bit of a hurdle race we 
had in a little town down South. I’m on one of those 
horses.” 

“You are! Oh, yes — I see — on the front one! Why, 
say — ” he turned to Black, enthusiasm lighting his face — 
“you’re one of those regular horse-riding Southerners. 
This is on your family estate. I’ll wager.” 

Black’s face flushed a little, but his eyes met the boy’s 
frankly. “I was born in Scotland, and came over here 
when I was sixteen. I worked for the man who lived in 
that house back there at the left. He let me ride his 
horses. I broke the black one for him — and rode him to a 
finish in that race. I was only seventeen then.” 

Tom stared for a minute before his manners came 
to the rescue. “That’s awfully interesting,” he said then, 
politely. Black could see the confusion and wonderment 
in his mind as plainly as if the boy had given expression 
to it. If the information had let Tom down a little, 
the next instant he rallied to the recognition that here was 
a man out of the ordinary. Tom was not a snob, but he 
had never before heard a minister own to “working” for 
anybody, and it had startled him slightly. But when he 
regarded Black, he saw a man who, while he looked as if 
he had never worked for anybody, had not hesitated to 
declare that he had. Tom thought he liked the com- 
bination. 

“If you could tell me of a good place to get these 
framed,” Black said, gathering up the photographs and 
prints as he spoke, “I believe I’ll have it done right away. 


20 RED AND BLACK 

It’s the one thing that’ll make this big house seem a little 
more like home.” 

“That’s right. And I can tell you a peach of a place — 
in fact I’ll take you there, if you want to go right now. 
It’s on our way back home. By the way — ” young 
Tom glanced round the big bare room — “if there’s any 
stuff you want to get for the house to give it a kind of a 
jolly air, you know, you’ll find it right there, at Jane Ray’s. 
She can advise you, too.” 

“I don’t suppose I’ll get anything but the frames,” 
Black answered cautiously, as the two went out together. 
He had received an advance on his new salary, and there^ 
fore he had more money in his pocket than he had ever had 
before at one time, but he was too much in the habit of 
needing to count every penny to think of starting out 
to buy anything not strictly necessary. And already he 
knew Tom for the usual careless spender, the rich man’s 
son. Very likely, he thought, this place to which Tom was 
to take him was the most expensive place in the suburban 
town. On second thought, he decided to take along only 
two of his pictures — ^till he knew the prices he must pay. 

It had not been a particularly busy morning for Jane 
Ray. She was occupied with only one customer at the 
moment when Robert Black and young Thomas Lockhart 
came down the side street upon which fronted her shop — 
a side street down which many feet were accustomed to 
turn, in search of Jane and her wares. 

The customer with whom she was occupied stood with 
her at the rear of the shop before several specimens of 
antique desks and chairs. All about were other pieces, 
some of them proclaiming themselves rather rare. Jane 
Ray herself also looked rather rare — for a shopkeeper. 


HEADLINES 21 

inasmuch as she did not look like a shopkeeper at all, 
though the chaste severity of her business attire rivalled 
that of her latest acquired possession over which that 
morning she was gloating — a genuine Adam mirror. This 
mirror reflected faithfully Jane’s smooth, chestnut brown 
head, her slightly dusky skin with an underlying tinge of 
pink, her dark eyes which held a spice of mischief in spite 
of their cool alertness of glance, her faintly aggressive 
chin — which meant that she could argue with you about 
the value of her goods and hold her own, and in the'^end 
convince you, without making you unhappy about it — 
which is a rare accomplishment, especially in so young a 
woman as was Miss Ray. 

Robert Black arftl Tom, the latter self-constituted guide 
to furnishing a manse with what might be called its super- 
fluous necessities, entered the shop and stood waiting. 
Jane saw them in her Adam mirror, but she continued to 
discuss with her other customer the relative merits of a 
Chippendale desk having all manner of hidden springs 
and drawers in it, with those of a Sheraton pouch-table, 
a work-table with a silken bag beneath it, and essentially 
feminine in its appeal. The customer was making a pres- 
ent to his wife, and had fled to Jane in this trying emer- 
gency — as did many another man. Jane always knew. 

‘Tsn’t this some place.?” murmured young Lock- 
hart, proudly, hanging over a glass show-case on a cherry 
gate-table. “Ever get into a woman’s shop that catered 
to men like this one.? Look at this case of pipes — aren’t 
they stunners.? She knows all there is to know about 
every last thing she sells, and what’s more, she never keeps 
anything but good stuff. Some of it’s pretty rare, and all 
of it’s corking. Look at those cats’ eyes!” 

But Black had caught sight of certain headlines in a 


22 


RED AND BLACK 


New York daily lying beside the case of semi-precious; 
stones which had attracted Tom. It was a late morning 
edition, and this suburban town lay too far from New 
York for the later morning editions to reach it before early 
afternoon — anyhow, they were not to be had at the news- 
stands before two o’clock, as Black had discovered yester- 
day. He seized the paper, wondering how this woman 
shopkeeper had achieved the impossible. He was a vora- 
cious reader of war-news, this Scotsman by blood and 
American to the last loyal drop of it. But he was not sat- 
isfied with America’s part in the great conflict. For this 
was April, nineteen sixteen, and the thing had been going 
on for almost two years. 

He devoured the black headlines. 

“NO BREAK IN THE FRENCH LINES YET. 
SEVENTH WEEK OF THE STRUGGLE AT VERDUN 
TOTAL GAIN ONLY FOUR TO FIVE MILES 
ON A THIRTY-FIVE MILE FRONT.” 

He flamed into low, swift speech, striking the paper 
before him with his fist. Tom, listening, forgot to gaze 
upon the contents of the case before him. 

“Those French — aren’t they magnificent.? Why 
aren’t we there, fighting by their sides.? Oh, we’ll get 
there yet, but it’s hard to wait. Think of those fellows — 
holding on two long, anxious years! And they came over 
here — Lafayette and the rest — and poured out their blood 
and their money for us. And we think we’re doing some- 
thing when we send them a little food and some tobacco 
to buck up on!” 

“I say — do you want to fight — a minister? Why, I 
thought all your profession asked for was peace!” Young 


HEADLINES 


25 

Tom’s tone was curious. He did not soon forget the look 
in the face of the man who answered him. 

“Peace! We do want peace — but not peace without 
honour! And no minister fit to preach preaches anything 
like that! Don’t think it of us!” 

“Well, I used to hear Doctor Curtin — the man before 

you. He seemed to think But I didn’t agree with 

him,” Tom hastened to say, suddenly deciding it best not 
to quote the pacific utterances of the former holder of the 
priestly office. “I thought we ought to go to it. If this 
country ever does get into it — though Dad thinks it’ll all be 
settled this year — you bet I’ll enlist.” 

“Enlist.! I should say so!” And Black took up the 
paper again, eagerly reading aloud the account which foL 
lowed the headlines of the sturdy holding of the fiercely 
contested ground at Verdun — that name which will be re- 
membered while the world lasts. 

He looked up at length to find that the other customer 
had gone, and that Miss Ray, the shopkeeper, had come 
forward. He looked into a face which reflected his own 
pride in the French prowess, and forgot for the instant that 
he had come to buy of her or that she was there to sell. 

“It’s great, isn’t it — the way they are holding.?” she 
said, in a pleasant, low voice. 

“Great.? — it’s glorious! By the way — how do you get 
hold of this late edition so early?” 

“Have it sent up by special messenger from the city. 
Otherwise it would be held over with the rest of the papers 
till the two o’clock train.” 

Tom broke in. “ Pretty clever of you, I say. Miss Ray. 
Just like the rest of your business methods — always ahead 
of the other fellow!” 

“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart,” Miss Ray answered. 


RED AND BLACK 


24 

“It wouldn’t do to let one’s methods become as antique 
as one’s goods in this case, would it?” 

“Miss Ray, I want to present my friend, Mr. Black.” 
Tom forgot his new friend’s title as he made this in- 
troduction, but of course it didn’t matter. Though Miss 
Ray seldom attended church anywhere, she could hardly 
fail, in the talkative suburban town, to know that at 
the “Stone Church” there was a new man. “He wants 
to get some of his pictures framed, and of course I led 
him here,” added Tom, with his boyish grin. He looked 
at Miss Ray with his usual frankly admiring gaze. No 
doubt but she was worth it. Not often does a woman 
shopkeeper achieve the subtle effect of being a young 
hostess in her own apartments as did Jane Ray. And, as 
every woman shopkeeper knows, that is the highest, as 
it is the most difficult, art of shopkeeping. 

She scanned the pictures — one that of the hurdle race, 
the other a view of a country road, with a white spired 
church in the distance. In no time she had them fitted 
into precisely the right frames, these enhancing their 
values as well-chosen frames do. Delighted but still 
cautious. Black inquired the prices. Miss Ray mentioned 
them, adding the phrase! with which he was familiar, “with 
the clerical discount.” 

“Thank you!” acknowledged Black. “What are they 
without the discount, please?” 

Miss Ray glanced at him. “I am accustomed to give 
it,” she observed. 

“I am accustomed not to take it,” said the Scotsman, 
firmly. “ But I’m just as much obliged.” 

She smiled, and told him the regular price. He counted 
this out, expressed his pleasure in having found precisely 
what he wanted, and led the way out. 


HEADLINES 


25 

Jane Ray looked after his well-set shoulders, noting 
that he did not put his hat upon his close-cut, inclined-to- 
be-wirily-curly black hair until he had reached the street. 
Then she looked down at the money in her hand. 
“Wouldn’t take a discount — and didn’t ask me to come 
to his church,” she commented to herself. “Must be 
rather a new sort.” She then promptly dismissed him 
from her thoughts — until later in the day, when the mem- 
ory was brought back to her by another incident. 

It was well along in the afternoon, and she had just 
sold a genuine Eli Terry “grandfather” clock at a fair 
profit, and had bargained for and secured several very 
beautiful pieces of Waterford glass which she had long 
coveted. A succession of heavy showers had cleared her 
shop, and she had found time to open a long roll which the 
expressman had delivered in the morning, when the shop 
door admitted a person to whom she turned an eager 
face. 

“Oh, I’m glad it’s you!” she said. “Come and see 
what I have now .'” 

“Nothing doing,” replied R. P. Burns, M.D., with, 
however, a smile which belied his words. “I want a 
present for a sick baby I’m going to fix up in the morning. 
One of those painted Russian things of yours — the last 
boy went crazy over ’em. No time for antiques.” 

“This isn’t an antique — it’s the last word from the 
front, and youUl go crazy over it” replied Miss Ray. 
Nevertheless she left the roll and went to a corner in the 
back of the shop given over to all sorts of foreign made and 
fascinating wooden toys. She selected a bear with a 
wide smile and feet which walked, and a gay-hued parrot 
on a stick, and took them to the big man who was waiting, 
like Mercury, poised on an impatient foot. V^hile he 


26 


RED AND BLACK 

counted out the change she slipped over to her roll of 
heavy papers, took out one, and when he looked up again 
it was straight into a great French war poster held at 
the length of Jane’s extended arms. He stared hard at it, 
and well he might, for it was by one of the most famous 
of French artists, whose imagination had been flaming 
with the vision of the desperate day. 

“Well, by Joe!” Burns ejaculated, his hurry forgot. 
“Isay ” 

The poster’s owner waited quietly, lost to view behind 
the big sheet. Burns studied every detaiKof the picture, 
losing no suggestion indicated by the clever lines of the 
inspired pencil. It was only a rough sketch, impression- 
istic to the last degree, yet holding unspoken volumes in 
each bold outline. Then he drew a deep breath. 

“Where did you get it?” he asked, as Jane lowered the 
poster. His eye went back to the roll lying half opened on 
a mahogany table near by. 

“They were sent over by an officer I know — straight 
from Paris. That isn’t the most wonderful one by half, 
but I want you to see the rest when you’re not so rushed 
for time.” 

“I’m not particularly rushed,” replied Burns, with a 
grin. “At least, I can stop if you’ve any more like this, 
I have to tear in and out of your place, you know, because 
there’s always some idiot lurking behind one of your 
screens to leap out and ask me searching questions about 
patients. If you’ll bar your doors to the public some day. 
I’ll come and spend an hour gazing at your stuff. Let’s 
see the posters, please.” 

Jane spread them out, one after another, till half the 
shop was covered. Burns walked from poster to poster, 
intent, frowning with interest, his quick intelligence recog- 


HEADLINES 27 

nizmg the extraordinary impressions he was getting, his 
own imagination firing under the stimulus of an art at its 
marvellous best. Before one of the smaller posters he 
lingered longest — a wash drawing in colour of a poilu 
holding his child in his arms, with its mother looking into 
his face. 

“He’s just a kid, that fellow,” he said, in a smothered 
tone, “just a kid, but he’s giving ’em both up. He won’t 
come back — somehow you know that. And — it doesn’t 
seem to matter, if he helps save his country. See here — • 
you ought to do something with these. If the people of 
this town could see them, a few more of them might wake 
up to the idea that there’s a war on somewhere.” 

“As soon as some English ones come I’ve sent for I 
intend to have an exhibition, here in my shop, and sell 
them — for the benefit of French and Belgian orphans. I 
expect to get all kinds of prices. Will you auction them 
off for me?” 

“You bet I will — if I can do it explosively enough. I’d 
do anything on earth for a little chap like that.” He in- 
dicated a wistful Belgian baby at the edge of a group of 
children. “Here are our youngsters, fed up within an 
inch of their lives, and these poor little duffers living on 
scraps, and too few of those. Oh, what a contrast! As 
for ourselves — ^we come around and buy antiques to make 
our homes more stunning!” 

He looked her in the eye, and she looked steadily back. 
Then she went over to an impressive Georgian desk, 
opened a drawer and took out a black-bound book. Re- 
turning, she silently held it out to him. It was a text book 
on nursing, one of those required in a regulation hospital 
course. 

“Eh? What?” he ejaculated, taking the book. “Study- 


28 


RED AND BLACK 

ing, are you — all by yourself? How far are you?’^ He 
flipped the pages. ‘‘I see. Are you serious? — You, a 
successful business woman? What do you want to do it 
for?” 

‘‘Absolutely serious. This country will go into the 
war some day — it must, or I can’t respect it any more. 
And when it does — ^well, keeping an antique shop will be 
the deadest thing there is. I’ll nail up the door and go 
‘over there.’” 

“And not to collect curios this time?” His bright 
hazel eyes were studying her intently. 

“Hardly. To be of use, if I can. I thought the more 
I knew of nursing ” 

“You can’t get very far alone, you know.” 

“I can get far enough so that when I do manage to take 
a course I can rush it — can’t I ?” 

“Don’t know — hard to cut any red tape. But all 
preparation counts, of course. Well — I’ll give you a ques* 
tion to answer that’ll show up what you do know.” 

He proceeded to do this, considering for a minute, and 
then firing at her not one but a series of interrogations. 
These were not unkindly technical, but designed to test 
her practical knowledge of the pages — which according to 
the marker he had found — she had evidently lately fin- 
ished. The answers she gave him appeared to satisfy him, 
though he did not say so. Instead, closing the book with 
a snap, he said: 

“When you sail my wife and I will be on the same ship. 
We’d be there now if we had our way — it’s all we talk 
about. Well ” 

And he was about to say that he must hurry like mad 
now to make up for time well lost, when the shop door 
opened to admit out of a sharp dash of rain a customer 


HEADLINES 29 

who was trying to shelter a flat package beneath his coat. 
For the second time that day Robert Black was bringing 
pictures to be framed; in fact, they were the rest of the pile 
which he had not ventured to bring the first time, lest Miss 
Ray's prices be too high for him. 

Red gave him one look, and would have fled, but Black 
did not make for the big doctor with outstretched hand — 
in fact, he did not seem to see him. At the very front of 
the shop stood a particularly distinguished looking Hepple- 
white sideboard, its serpentine front exquisitely inlaid 
with satinwood, its location one to catch the eye. It 
caught Black's eye — but not because of any cunning 
design of maker or shopkeeper. Having filled the avail-, 
able space in the rear of the shop with her war posters, 
Jane had worked toward the front, and the last and most 
splendid of them she had propped upon the sideboard. 
In front of it Black now came to a standstill, and Red, 
intending to leave the place in haste at sight of the min- 
ister he was in no hurry to meet, involuntarily paused 
to note the effect upon the ‘‘Kid" — as he persisted in 
calling him — of the poster's touchingly convincing appeal. 

It was a drawing in black and white of a French mother 
taking leave of her son, that subject whfch has employed 
so many clever pens and brushes since the war began, but 
than which there is none more universally powerful in its 
importunity. The indomitable courage in the face of the 
Frenchwoman had in it a touch beyond that of the ordi- 
nary artist to convey — one could not analyze it, but it 
gripped the heart none the less, as Red himself could tes- 
tify. He now watched it grip Black. 

Without taking his eyes from the picture Black propped 
his umbrella against a chair, laid his hat and his package 
upon it, and stood still before the Frenchwoman and her 


RED AND BLACK 


30 

Loy, unconscious of anything else. And as he stood there? 
slowly his hands, hanging at his sides, became fists which 
clenched themselves. Red, observing, his own hand upon 
the big wrought-Iron latch of the door, paused still a mo- 
ment longer. The “Kid” cared, did he? How much did 
he care, then ? Red found himself rather wanting to know. 

Black looked up at last, saw the other man, saw that he 
was the quarry he was so anxious to run down, but only 
said, as his gaze returned to the poster, “And she’s 
only one of thousands, all with a spirit like that!” 

“Only one,” Red agreed. “They’re astonishing, those 
Frenchwomen.” Then he went on out and closed the door 
behind him. 

After he had gone he admitted to himself that since his 
wife was a member of this man’s church, and Black prob- 
ably knew that fact, he himself might have stayed long 
enough to shake hands. At close range his eyesight, 
trained to observe, had not been able to avoid noting that 
Black was no boy, after all. There had been that in the 
face he had momentarily turned toward Red to show 
plainly that he was in the full first maturity of manhood. 
It may be significant that from this moment, in whatever 
terms Red spoke of the minister at home when he was 
forced by the exigencies of conversation to mention him at 
all, he ceased to call him “the Kid.” So, though Black 
did not know it, he had passed at least one barrier to getting 
to know the man he meant to make his friend. 


CHAPTER III 

NO ANAESTHETIC 

O F COURSE the day came, as it inevitably must, when 
Black and Red actually met, face to face, with no 
way out but to shake hands, look each other in the eye, 
and consider their acquaintance made? No, that day of 
proper introduction never came. But the day did come 
on which they looked each other in the eye without shak- 
ing hands — and another day, a long time after, they did 
shake hands. As to their friendship — but that’s what 
this story is about. 

The day on which they looked each other in the eye 
first was on a Sunday morning, rather early. Black had 
done a perfectly foolhardy thing. It was a late June 
day, and the cherries in a certain tree just outside his 
bathroom window were blood-red ripe and tempting. 
Fresh from his cold tub — clad in shirt and trousers, un- 
shaven — his mouth watering at the thought of eating 
cherries before breakfast, he climbed out of the window 
upon the sloping roof of the side porch, and let himself 
down to the edge to reach the cherries. He never knew 
how the fool thing happened, really; the only thing he did 
know was that he slipped suddenly upon the edge of the 
roof, wet with an early morning shower, and fell heavily 
to the ground below, striking on his right shoulder. And 
then, presently, he was sitting at the telephone in his 
study, addressing R. P. Burns, M. D., in terms which 
31 


32 RED AND BLACK 

strove to be casual, inviting him to make a morning call 
at the manse. 

“Fd come over myself,’’ he explained, “but Fm 
ashamed to say Fm a trifle shaky.” 

“Naturally,” replied the crisp voice at the other end of 
the wire. “Go and lie down till I get there.” 

“Please have your breakfast first,” requested Black, 
struggling hard to master a growing faintness. Whatever 
he had done to his shoulder, it hurt rather badly, though 
he didn’t mind that so much as the idea of disgracing him- 
self in Burns’ eyes by going white and flabby over what 
was probably a trivial injury. To be sure he couldn’t 
use his arm, but it didn’t occur to him that he had actually 
dislocated that shoulder by so trifling a means as a slip 
from the manse roof. The manse roof, of all places! It 
wasn’t built for incumbent ministers to go upon, between 
a bath and a shave, and tumble from like a little boy 
— and on a Sunday morning, too! 

The answer Red gave to Black’s suggestion that he 
have breakfast before coming resembled a grunt more than 
anything else. Black couldn’t determine whether the red- 
headed doctor meant to do it or not. The question was 
settled within five minutes by the arrival of Red, who 
came straight in at the open manse door, followed the call 
Black gave, “In here, please — at your left,” and appeared 
in the study doorway, surgical bag in his hand, and a some- 
what grim expression — with which Black had already be- 
come familiar at a distance — upon his lips. Black sat in 
his red-cushioned wooden rocker, that most incongruous 
piece of furniture in the midst of the black walnut dignity 
of the manse study, and in it his appearance suggested 
that of a sick boy who has taken refuge in his mother’s 
arms. Indeed, it may have been with somewhat of that 


NO ANAESTHETIC 33 

feeling that he had chosen it as the place in which to wait 
the coming of aid. Anyhow, his face, under its unshaven 
blur of beard, looked rather white, though his voice was 
steady. 

“Mighty sorry to bother you at this hour. Doctor 
Burns,” he began, but was interrupted. 

“Didn’t I tell you to lie down? What’s the use of 
sitting up and getting faint?” 

“I’m all right.” 

“Yes, I see! All alone here? Thought you had a 
housekeeper.” Red was opening up his bag and laying 
out supplies as he spoke. 

“I have. She’s gone home for over Sunday.” 

“They usually have — when anything happens. Well, 
come over here on this couch, if you can walk, and we’ll 
see what the trouble is.” 

Black demonstrated that he could walk, though it 
was with considerable effort. Through all his undeniable 
faintness he was thinking with some exultation that this 
was a perfectly good chance to meet Red — and on his own 
ground, too. What luck! 

Red made a brief examination. 

“You’ve fixed that shoulder, all right,” he announced- 
“No matter — we’ll have you under a whiff of ether, and 
reduce it in a jiffy.” 

“Thanks — no ether, please. You mean I’ve dislocated 
it?” inquired the patient, speaking with some difficulty. 

“Good and proper. Here you are ” And without 

loss of time a peculiarly shaped article, made of wire and 
gauze and smelling abominably, came over Black’s face. 
It was instantly removed. 

“I believe I said no ether, if you please!” remarked an 
extraordinarily obstinate voice. 


RED AND BLACK 


34 

Nonsense, man! Fm only going to give you enough 
to relax you. I see some good stiff muscles there that 
may give me trouble.” 

“Ether’ll make me sick, and Fve got to preach this 
morning.” 

“ Preach — nothing!” 

“It may be nothing,” agreed the patient, “but Fm 
going to preach it, just the same. And I won’t have an 
anaesthetic, thank you just as much. Doctor.” 

Red said no more. No surgeon but is astute enough 
to tell whether a patient is bluffing or whether he means it. 
Unquestionably, though Black’s face was the colour of 
ashes, he meant it. Therefore Red proceeded to reduce the 
dislocation, without the advantage to himself — or to the 
patient — of the relaxing aid of the anaesthetic. It was a 
bad dislocation, and it took the doctor’s own sturdy mus- 
cles and all his professional skill to do the trick in a few 
quick, efficient moves and one tremendous pull. But it was 
all over in less time that it takes to tell it, and only one low 
groan had escaped Black’s tightly pressed lips. Never- 
theless his forehead was wet and cold when he lay limp 
at the end of that bad sixty seconds. 

A strong arm came under his shoulders, and a glass was 
held to his lips. “Drink this — ^you’ll be all right in a 
minute,” said a rather far-away voice, and Black obedi- 
ently swallowed something which he didn’t much like — 
and which he probably would have refused to take if he 
had suspected that it was going to help buck him up the 
way it did. He had an absurd idea of not allowing himself 
to be bucked up by anything but his own will — not in the 
presence of Red, anyhow. 

“ Some nerve — for a preacher,” presently said the voiccr 
which sounded nearer now. 


NO ANESTHETIC 35 

“Why — a preacher?” inquired Black, as belligerently 
as a man can who is stretched upon his back with his coat 
ofF, his arm being bandaged to his side, and a twenty-four 
hours’ growth of beard on his somewhat aggressive chin. 

“Never mind,” Red commanded. “We won’t have it 
out now. I don’t blame you — that was hitting a man 
when he’s down.” 

“I’m not down.” Black attempted to sit up. A 
vigorous arm detained him where he was. 

“Just keep quiet a few minutes, and you’ll be the gainer 
in the end. By the way — can you shave with your left 
hand?” 

“I never tried it.” Black’s left hand took account of 
his cheek and chin. “I was just going to shave when 
those — fool — cherries caught my eye.” 

“Where’s your shaving stuff?” 

Black looked up, startled. “Oh, I can’t let you ” 

“Who’s going to do it? If you must preach, you don’t 
want to go to it looking like a pugilist, do you ? Though 

I’m not so sure ” Red left the sentence unfinished, 

while a wicked smile played round his lips. 

“I’ll do it myself — or send for a barber.” 

“Oh, come on. Black! I’m perfectly competent to do 
the job, and now I’ve got my hand in on you I’d like to 
leave you looking the part you wouldn’t insist on playing 
if you weren’t pretty game. I’m not so sure I ought to 
let you ” 

“I’d like to see you help it,” declared Black, and now he 
was smiling, too, and feeling distinctly better. 

So it ended by Red’s going upstairs after the shaving 
materials, and then shaving Black, and doing it with 
decidedly less finish of style than might have been ex- 
pected of a crack surgeon with a large reputation. He 


RED AND BLACK 


36 

cut his victim once, and Black, putting up a hand and 
getting it all blood and lather, grinned up into Red’s face, 
who grinned back and expressed his regret at the slip. 
This does not mean that they had become friends — not 
from Red’s standpoint, at least, who would have be- 
friended a sick dog and then shot him without compunc- 
tion because he didn’t want him around. But it does 
mean that at last the two had met, on a man-to-man basis, 
and that Red’s respect for the man he had been in no 
hurry to meet had been considerably augmented. Black 
was pretty sure of this, and it helped to brace him more 
than the stimulant had done. 

Two hours, later Red cut a call on a rich patient much 
shorter than was politic, in order to get to the Stone 
Church in time to slip into a back pew. Before going in 
he gave young Perkins instructions not to call him out 
before the sermon ended for anything short of murder 
on the church doorstep, surprising that lively usher very 
much, since it was the first time such a thing had ever 
happened. In making this effort Red had Black in mind 
as a patient rather than a minister. A severe dislocation 
must naturally cause a certain amount of nervous shock 
which might prove disastrous to a man attempting to 
carry through a long service and spend most of the period 
upon his feet, within two hours after the accident occurred. 
Game though Black might be — ^well — Red admitted to 
himself that he rather wanted to see how the fellow whom 
he could no longer call “the Kid” would see the thing 
through. 

Reactions are curious things. In this case, though it 
was true that Black had to steady himself more than once 
to keep his congregation from whirling dizzily and dis- 
concertingly before his eyes, had to set his teeth and 


37 


NO ANESTHETIC 

summon every ounce of will he possessed to keep on 
through the first three quarters of his service, after all it 
was Red who got the most of the reaction. For the ser« 
mon which Black preached contained a bomb thrown 
straight at the heads of a parish which, with half the world 
at war, was in its majority distinctly pacifist — as was 
many another church during the year of 1916. Black, 
before his sermon was done, had taken an out-and-out, 
unflinching stand for the place of the Church in times of 
war, and had declared that it must be on the side of the 
sword, when the sword was the only weapon which could 
thrust its way to peace. 

Red, listening closely, forgetting that the man before 
him was his patient, found himself involuntarily admitting 
that whatever else he was, Robert McPherson Black was 
fearless in his speech. And there was probably no use in. 
denying that the fellow had a way of putting things that, 
as James Macauley had asserted, effectually prevented the 
man in the pew from becoming absorbed in reveries of his 
own. It had been by no means unusual for R. P. Burns, 
surgeon, expecting to do a critical operation on Monday 
morning, to perform that operation in detail on Sunday 
morning, while sitting with folded arms and intent ex- 
pression before a man who was endeavouring to interest 
him in spiritual affairs. On the present occasion, however, 
though the coming Monday’s clinical schedule was full to 
the hatches. Red was unable to detach himself for a mo- 
ment from the subject being handled so vigorously by 
Black. Thus, listening through to the closing words, he 
discovered himself to be aflame with fires which another 
hand had kindled, and that hand, most marvellously, a 
preacher’s. 

Young Perkins, hovering close to the rear seat inta 


RED AND BLACK 


38 

which Red had stolen upon coming In just before the ser- 
mon, considered the embargo raised with the closing 
words of Black, ^nd had his whispered summons ready 
precisely as Black began his brief closing prayer. The 
scowl with which Red motioned him away surprised Per- 
kins very much, causing him to retreat to the outer door, 
where In due season he delivered his message to the leis- 
urely departing doctor — departing leisurely because he 
was eavesdropping. 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he had overheard one 
man of prominence saying to another In the vestibule. 
“Strikes me that’s going pretty strong. What’s the use 
of stirring up trouble? That sort of talk’s going to offend. 
Pulpit’s not called upon to go into matters of state — 
particularly now, when public sentiment’s so divided. 
Somebody better put a flea in his ear, eh?” 

The other man nodded. “I believe a good deal as he 
does myself,” he admitted, cautiously, “but I don’t hold 
with offending people who have as good a right to their 
opinions as he has. I saw Johnstone wriggling more than 
once, toward the last — and he’s about the last man we 
want to make mad.” 

R. P. Burns laid a heavy hand on the speaker’s arm. 
Turning, the other man looked Into a pair of contemptu- 
ous hazel eyes, with whose glance, both friendly and fiery, 
he had been long familiar. “Oh, roi /” said a low voice in 
his ear. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just that. Think It out.” And Burns was gone, In 
the press, with the quickness now of one accustomed to 
get where he would go, no matter how many were in the 
way. 

He marched around to the vestry door, where he found 


NO ANESTHETIC 39 

Black standing, his gown off, his face gone rather white, 
though it had been full of colour when Red saw it last. 

“Faint?” he asked. 

“No — thanks, Tm all right. Just thought Fd like a 
whiff of fresh air.” 

“Take a few deep breaths. Fll give you a pick-up, if 
you say so.” 

Black shook his head. “Fm all right,” he repeated. 

“Shoulder ache?” 

“Not much. Fm all right, I tell you. Doctor. Can’t 
you get over the idea that a preacher is a man of straw? 
Why, I — will you try a wrestle with me, sometime — 
when my shoulder’s fit again?” 

Red laughed. “Down you in two minutes and fifteen 
seconds,” he prophesied. 

“Try it, and see.” And Black walked back into the 
church, his cheek losing its pallor in a hurry. 

On that Sunday the Lockharts, his first entertainers, 
insisted that he come to dinner. Though he had kept 
his slung shoulder and arm under his gown, the facts 
showed plainly,yand the congregation was full of sym- 
pathy. With his housekeeper away. Black could find no 
way out, though he would have much preferred remaining 
quietly in his study, with four cups of coffee of his own 
amateur making, and whatever he could find in his larder 
left over from Saturday. 

So he went to the Lockharts’, and there he met a person 
who had been in his congregation that morning, but whom 
he had not noted. She had seen that he had not noted 
her, but she had made up her mind that such blindness 
should not long continue. Her appearance was one well 
calculated to arrest the eve of man, and Black’s eye. 


RED AND BLACK 


40 

though it was accustomed to dwell longer upon man than 
upon woman, was not one calculated by Nature to be 
altogether and indefinitely undiscerning. 

With Annette Lockhart, daughter of the house, the 
guest. Miss Frances Fitch, a former school friend, held a 
brief consultation just before Black’s arrival. 

“Think he’s the sort to fall for chaste severity, or femi- 
nine frivolity, when it comes to dress, Nanny?” 

Miss Lockhart looked her friend over. “You’re just 
the same old plotter, aren’t you, Fanny Fitch?” she ob- 
served, frankly. “Well, it will take all you can do, and 
then some, if you expect to interest Mr. Black. But — 
if you want my advice — I should say chaste severity was 
your line.” 

“There’s where you show your unintelligence,” de- 
clared Miss Fitch. “I shall be as frilly as I can, because 
you yourself are a model of smooth and tailored fitness, 
and he will want a relief for his eyes. He shall find it in 
me. Really, wasn’t he awfully game to preach, with that 
shoulder?” 

“He’s a Scot,” said Nan Lockhart. “Of course he 
would, if it killed him.” 

The result of this exchange of views was that Miss Fitch 
appeared looking like a fascinating young saint in a sheer 
white frock. Had she a white heart? Well, anyhow, she 
looked the embodiment of ingenuousness, for her masses 
of fair hair were too curly to be entirely subdued, no 
matter how confined, and her deep blue eyes beneath 
the blonde locks might have been those of a beautiful 
child. 

“Oh, I say!” ejaculated Tom Lockhart, when she first 
came downstairs, the transformation from her dark 
smoothness of church garb to this spring-like outburst of 


NO ANESTHETIC 


41 

whiteness hitting him full in his vulnerable young heart — ■ 
as usual. 

“Well — like me. Tommy dear?” asked Fanny Fitch, 
letting her fingers rest for the fraction of a second on his 
dark-blue coat-sleeve. 

“Like you!” breathed Tom. “I say — ^why did I bring 
him home to dinner? Now you’ll just fascinate him — 
and forget me!” 

“Forget yow.? Why, Tom!” And Miss Fitch gave him 
an enchanting glance which made his heart turn over. 
Then she went on into the big living room, where Robert 
McPherson Black, damaged shoulder and arm in a fine black 
silk sling, the colour now wholly restored to his interesting 
face, rose courteously to be presented to her. Of course 
he did not know it, but it was at that moment that he 
encountered a quite remarkable combination of the world, 
the flesh, and the devil. Up to now he had met each of 
these tremendous forces separately, but never before all 
together in one slim girl’s form. And yet, right here, it 
must be definitely asserted and thoroughly assimilated, 
that Fanny Fitch was what is known as an entirely 
‘‘nice” girl, and in her heart at that hour was nothing which 
could be called an evil intent. The worst that could be 
said of her was that she was ruthless in exacting tribute — 
even as Caesar. And when her eye had fallen upon the 
minister, with his right arm out of commission but tiie rest 
of him exceedingly assertive of power, she had coveted 
him. To her, the rest seemed easy. 

As to Black— he was not “easy.” In his very young man- 
hood he had loved very much the pretty daughter of his 
Southern employer, but she had been as far out of his 
reach as the furthermost star in the bright constellations 
which nightly met his eye in the skies above him. When she 


RED AND BLACK^ 


42 

had married he had firmly and definitely put the thought 
of woman out of his head, and had formulated a code com 
cerning the whole sex intended to hold throughout his 
ministry. During his entire first pastorate he had been a 
model of discretion — as a young minister in a country 
community must be, if he would not have his plans for ser- 
vice tumbling about his ears. Fortunately for him he 
was, by temperament and by training, not over susceptible 
to any ordinary feminine environment or approach. He 
had a hearty and wholesome liking for the comradeiship of 
men, greatly preferring it to the frequent and unavoid- 
able association with women necessary in the workings of 
church affairs. Even when his eye first rested upon the 
really enchanting beauty of Miss Fanny Fitch, if he 
could have exchanged her, as his companion at the Lock- 
hart dinner table, for R. P. Burns, M. D., he would have 
done it in the twinkling of an eye. For had not Red 
shaved him that morning, and wasn’t another barrier most 
probably well down ? It was of that he was thinking, and 
not, just then, of her. 

But she forced him to think of her — it was an art in 
which she was a finished performer. She did it by cutting 
up for him that portion of a crown roast of spring lamb 
which Mr. Samuel Lockhart sent to him upon his plate. 
Up to that moment, throughout the earlier courses, he 
had been engaged with the rest in a general discussion of 
the subject of the war, quite naturally brought up by the 
sermon of the morning. But when it came to regarding 
helplessly the food which now appeared before him un- 
manageable by either fork or spoon, he found himself 
for the first time talking with Miss Fitch alone, while the 
conversation of the others went ahead upon a new tack. 

‘‘Oh, but this makes me think of how many poor 


43 


NO ANESTHETIC 

fellows have to have their food cut up for them, over 
there,’* she was saying, as her pretty, ringless fingers 
expertly prepared the tender meat for his consumption. 
“While you were speaking this morning I was wishing, as 
Fve been wishing ever since this terrible war began, that 
I could be really helping, on the other side. • If it hadn’t 
been for my mother, who is quite an invalid, I should have 
gone long ago. You made it all so real ” 

A man may tell himself that he doesn’t like flattery, 
but if it is cleverly administered — and if, though he is 
modest enough, he can’t help knowing himself that he has 
done a good thing in a fine way — how can he quite help 
being human enough to feel a glow of pleasure.? If it’s 
not overdone — arid Miss Fitch knew much better than 
that — much can thus be accomplished in breaking down 
a masculine wall of reserve. Black’s wall didn’t break 
that Sunday — oh, not at all — but it undeniably did crum- 
ble a little bit along the upper edges. 

After dinner was over, however, as if he were somehow 
subtly aware that the wall was undergoing an attack. 
Black withdrew with the other men to the further end of 
the living room to continue to talk things over. He was 
at some pains to seat himself so that he was facing these 
men, and had no view down the long room to the other 
end, where the women were gathered. 

Miss Fitch, looking his way from a corner of a great 
divan, sent a smile and a wave toward Tom, who, torn 
between allegiance to Fanny and his new and absorbing 
devotion to Black, had for the time being followed the 
men. Then she said negligently to Nan Lockhart: 

“Your minister certainly has a stunning profile. Look 
at it there against that dark blue curtain.” 

Nan looked for an instant, then back at her guest. 


RED AND BLACK 


44 

‘‘Oh, Fanny!” she murmured, rebukingly, “don’t you 
ever get tired of that game?” 

“What game, my dear?” 

“Oh — playing for every last one of them!” answered 
Annette Lockhart, with some impatience. She was a 
dark-eyed young woman with what might be called a 
strong face, by no means unattractive in its clean-cut 
lines. She had a personality all her own; she had been a 
leader always; people liked Nan Lockhart, and believed 
in her thoroughly. Her friendship for Fanny Fitch was a 
matter of old college ties — Fanny was nobody’s fool, and 
she was clever enough to keep a certain hold upon Nan 
through the exercise of a rather remarkable dramatic 
talent. Nan had written plays, and Fanny had acted 
them; and now that college days were over they had 
plans for the future which meant a continued partnership 
in the specialty of each. 

“Interested in him yourself, I judge,” Miss Fitch replied 
teasingly. “Don’t worry! The chances are all with 
you. He’s horribly sober minded — he’ll fall for your sort 
sooner than for mine.” 

But a certain gleam in her eyes said something else — 
that she was quite satisfied with the beginning she had 
made. Another man might have taken a seat where he 
could look at her; that Black deliberately looked the 
other way this astute young person considered proof 
positive that he found her unexpectedly distracting to 
his thoughts. 

When, at the end of an hour. Black turned around, ready 
to take his farewell. Miss Fitch was absent from the room. 
He glanced about for her, found her not, told himself that 
he was glad, and went out. As the door of the living 
room closed behind him, she came down the stairs, 3 


NO AN^STOETIC 45 

white hat on her head, a white parasol in her hand. 
They passed out of the house door together. At the street 
Miss Fitch turned in the direction of the manse, two 
blocks away. Black paused and removed his hat — with 
his left hand he did it rather awkwardly. 

“It’s been very pleasant to meet you,” he said. = “Is 
your stay to be long?” 

“Several weeks, I believe. Are you really going that 
way, Mr. Black — or don’t you venture to walk down the 
street with any members of your congregation except 
men?” 

He smiled. “I am really going this way. Miss Fitch — 
thank you! Would you care to know where?” 

“To Doctor Burns — with your arm, I suppose. Is it 
very painful?” 

“It’s doing very well. Isn’t this a magnificent day? I 
hope you’ll have a pleasant walk.” 

“I can hardly help it, thank you — ^I’m so fond of walk- 
ing — ^which Nan Lockhart isn’t — hard luck for me! 
Good bye — and I shall not soon forget what I heard this 
morning.” 

Her parting smile was one to remember — not a bit of 
pique that he hadn’t responded to her obvious invitation 
— no coquetry in it either, just charming friendliness, ex- 
ceedingly disarming. As he turned away, striding off in 
the opposite direction from that which he naturally would 
have taken, he was frowning a little and saying to himself 
that it was going to be rather more difficult to keep the 
old guard up in a place like this than it had been in his 
country parish. His good Scottish conscience told him 
that though in deciding on the instant to make Doctor 
Burns a visit he had committed himself to something he 
didn’t want to do at all — go and bother the difficult doctor 


RED AND BLACK 


46 

with his shoulder when it wasn’t necessary — he must do 
it now just the same, to square the thing. Heavens and 
earth — why shouldn’t he walk down the street with a 
beautiful young woman in white if she happened to be 
going his way, instead of putting himself out to go where 
he hated to, just to avoid her.? Not that he cared to walk 
with her — he didn’t — he preferred not to. And the doctor 
would think him a weakling, after all, if he came to him 
complaining, as was the truth, that his shoulder was aching 
abominably, and his head to match, and that his pulse 
seemed to be jumping along unpleasantly. Well 

Just then R. P. Burns went by in his car at a terrific and 
wholly inexcusable speed, evidently rushing out of town. 
Black, recognizing him, breathed a sigh of relief. But he 
went around seven blocks to get back to the Manse with- 
out a chance of meeting anybody in white. At a very dis- 
tant sight of anybody clothed all in white he turned up the 
first street, and this naturally lengthened his trip. So 
that when he was finally within the Manse’s sheltering 
walls he was very glad to give up bluffing for the day, and 
to stretch himself upon the leather couch in the study where 
that morning he had doggedly refused an anaesthetic 
He rather wished he had one now! Confound it — he felt 
that he had been a fool more than once that day. Why 
should ministers have to act differently from other men, 
in any situation whatever? He made up his mind that 
the next time he climbed out on a slippery roof on a Sunday 
morning — well, he would do it if he wanted to! But the 
next time he turned up a side street to avoid anybody — 
or changed his direction because anybody was going the 
\same way 

When he woke an hour later it was because his shoulder 
really was extreme!}^ sore and painful. But he wouldn’t 


NO ANESTHETIC 47 

have called Burns if he had known that that skillful sur- 
geon could take away every last twinge. Anyhow — Bums 
had shaved him that morning! There was that that 
was good to remember about the day. Sometime — he 
would come closer to the red-headed doctor than that! 


CHAPTER IV 

NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 

M rs. HODDER, housekeeper at the manse, breathed 
a heavy sigh as she poured the minister’s breakfast 
coffee. He looked up, as she had known he would; his 
ear seemed to be sensitive to sighs. 

‘Tt’s queer, how things go for some people,” she said. 
‘T can’t get over feeling that a body should have Christian 
burial, no matter what the circumstances is.” 

“Tell me about it,” said Black promptly. Mrs. Hodder 
was not a talker — ^he did not think she was a gossip. She 
had been selected for him by his good friend Mrs. Lockhart, 
who had had in mind the necessity of finding the minister 
a housekeeper built on these desirable lines. Mrs. Hodder 
came as near such lines as seemed humanly possible, 
though she had her faults. So had the minister, as he was 
accustomed to remind himself, whenever he discovered 
a new one in his housekeeper. 

So Mrs. Hodder told him, and as he listened a peculiar 
frown appeared between his eyebrows. The thing she 
told him was of the sort to touch him to the quick. The 
moment he had finished his breakfast — ^which he did in a 
hurry — ^he went into the study, closed the door, and called 
up a certain undertaker, whom — as is the case with the 
men of Black’s profession — he had come to know almost 
before he knew the leading men of his church. 

“Oh, that’s nothing that need interest you, Mr. Black, 
48 


NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 49 

replied the man of gloomy affairs, in the cheerful tone he 
employed out of working hours. “ It’s out in a community 
where there isn’t any church — folks are dead against the 
church, at that. Nobody expects any service — there won’t 
be but a handful there, anyhow. There’s only the girl’s 
grandmother for relatives — and the thing’s best kept 
quiet. See?” 

*T see. What time are you to leave the house?” 

“Ten o’clock. But you ” 

“There wouldn’t be any actual objection to my coming, 
would there, Mr. Munson?” 

“Why — I suppose not. They simply don’t expect it — • 
not used to it. And in this case — if you understand ” 

“I do understand — and I very much want to come. 
The trolley runs within two miles, I believe.” 

“Why — yes. But I can send for you, if you insist — • 
only — you know they’re poor as poverty ” 

“I want the walk, and I’ll catch the trolley — thank you. 
If I should be a bit late ” 

“Oh, I’ll hold the thing for you — and — well, it’s cer- 
tainly very good of you, Mr. Black. I admit I like to see 
such things done right myself.” 

The conversation ended here, and Black ran for his 
trolley, with only time to snatch a small, well-worn black 
leather handbook from his desk. He had no time for a 
change of clothes — which he wouldn’t have made in any 
case, though he was not accustomed to dress in clerical 
style upon the street, except in so far as a dark plainness 
of attire might suggest his profession rather than empha- 
size it. 

He had two minutes to spare on a street corner, waiting 
for his car. On that corner was a florist’s shop. Catching 
sight of a window full of splendid roses he rushed in, gave 


RED AND BLACK 


50 

an order which made the girl in charge work fast, and 
managed to speed up the whole transaction so successfully 
that when he swung on to the moving step he had a slim 
box under his arm. Only a dozen pink rosebuds — Black 
had never bought florist’s roses in armfuls — but somehow 
he had felt he must take them. How account for this 
impulse — since the Scotch are not notably impulsive? 
But — right here it will have to be confessed that Black 
had in his veins decidedly more than a trace of Irish blood. 
And now it’s out — and his future history may be better 
understood for the admission. 

Some time after Black had caught his trolley, R. P. 
Burns, M. D., brought his car to a hurried standstill in 
front of Jane Ray’s shop in the side street, and all but 
ran inside. The shop was empty at the moment, and 
Jane came forward at his call. He put a quick question : 

“Have you heard anything of Sadie Dunstan lately?” 

“Nothing — for a long time. I can’t even find out where 
she has gone.” 

“I can tell you — but it will startle you. There’s no 
time to break it gently, or I would. She got into trouble, 
and — came home to — die.” 

Jane was looking him straight in the face as he spoke, 
and he saw the news shock her, as he had known it would. 
Sadie Dunstan was a little, fair-haired girl who had been 
Jane’s helper in the shop for a year, and in whom Jane had 
taken great interest. Then she had gone away — ^West 
somewhere — had written once or twice — had failed to 
write — Jane had unwillingly lost track of her. And now 
— here was Burns and his news. 

“Where is she? Is she — still living?” Jane’s usually 
steady voice was unsteady. 

“No. She’s to be buried — within the hour. I just 


NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 51 

found it out — and came for you. I thought you might 
like to go.” 

ril be ready in three minutes. I’ll lock the shop ” 

Thus it was that two more people were shortly on their 
way to the place where little Sadie Dunstan, unhonoured 
and unmourned — except for one — lay waiting for the last 
offices earth could give her. But she was to have greater 
dignity shown her than she could have hoped. 

‘T did try to make a real woman of her,” said Jane, in a 
smothered voice, when Red had told her what he knew 
of the pitiful story. Passing the small house that morning 
he had seen the sign upon the door, and remembering 
Jane Ray’s lost protegee, had stopped to inquire. A 
neighbour had given him the tragic little history; the old 
grandmother, deaf and half blind in her chimney corner, 
had added a harsh comment or two; and only a young girl 
who said she was Sadie’s sister and had but an hour before 
suddenly appeared from the unknown, had shown that 
she cared what had happened to Sadie. 

“You did a lot for her,” asserted Burns. “I think the 
girl meant to be straight. This was one of those under- 
promise-of-marriage affairs which get the weak ones now 
and then. Poor little girl — she wouldn’t have wanted you 
to know — or me. She didn’t give me a chance — though 
there probably wasn’t one, anyway, by the time she got 
back here. I’ve had her under my care many a time in 
her girlhood, you know — she was a frail little thing, but 
mighty appealing. This younger sister is a good deal 
like her, as she looked when you took her first.” 

“I knew she had a sister, but thought she was far away 
somewhere.” 

“In an orphanage till this last year. She’s only sixteen 
— a flower of a girl— and cryiiie her heart out for Sadie. 


52 RED AND BLACK 

The grandmother’s a brute — the child can’t stay with 
her.” 

“She’ll not have to. I can make it up to Sadie — and I 
will.” 

Burns looked at the face in profile beside him. Jane 
Ray had a profile which might have been characterized 
as sturdily sweet; the lines were extremely attractive. 
Jane’s quiet dress, the simple hat upon her head, were the 
last word in expensive, well-conceived fashion, but Burns 
did not know this. He only knew that Miss Ray always 
looked precisely as she ought to look — very nice, and a 
little distinguished, so that one noticed her approvingly, 
and people who did not know her usually wondered who 
she was. He was thinking as he glanced at her now that 
if she meant to make it up to Sadie by taking her young 
sist)er under her care, that sister would have an even better 
chance than Sadie had had — and lost. 

“I wish we had brought some flowers,” Jane said sud- 
denly, as the car flew past the last houses of the main 
highway and began to climb the hills into the country 
backroads. “This is such a benighted little spot we’re 
going to — they may not have any at all.” 

“Doubt it. But there wasn’t time to hunt up flowers 
if we wanted to get there. Munson’s in all kinds of a 
hurry to get this thing over. It’s his busy day — as usual, 
when it happens to be a poor case. We’ll do well if we 
make it now. Not much use in coming — there’ll be no 
service. But we can at least see the box go down!” 

He spoke grimly. But Jane had caught sight of a rose- 
bush in a dooryard crowded with white roses, and cried 
out imperiously: 

“ Stop one minute, please, Doctor Burns. I’ll buy those 
roses or steal them. Please!” 


NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 53 

The brakes ground, and Jane was out before the car 
stopped, pulling out a plump little purse as she ran. A 
countrywoman hurrying to her door to protest angrily at 
the spectacle of a girl filling her arms with white roses 
was met with the call: “Pm going to give you a dollar 
for them — please don’t stop me. It’s for a f^uneral, and 
we’re late now!” 

“Highway robbery,” commented Burns, as Jane sprang 
in beside him. “But she’d have sold you her soul for a 
dollar — and dear at that.” 

“Oh, don’t talk about souls, up here,” Jane protested. 
“If your fine new man at the Stone Church wanted a job 
worth while he’d leave the smug people in the high-priced 
pews and come up here to look after barbarians who’ll 
bury a poor girl without a prayer. Don’t I know, without 
your telling me, that there’ll be no prayer? — unless you 
make one?” She looked at him with sudden challenge. 
“I dare you to!” she said, under her breath. 

Burns’ hazel glance, with a kindling fire in it, met hers. 
“I take the dare,” he answered, without hesitation. “I 
know the Lord’s Prayer — and the Twenty Third Psalm^ 
I’m not afraid to say them — for Sadie Dunstan.” 

The cynicism in Jane’s beautifully cut lips melted un- 
expectedly into a quiver, and she was silent after that, 
till the car dashed up the last steep hill. They came out 
at the top almost in the dooryard of a small, weather- 
beaten cottage in front of which stood an undertaker’s 
wagon, two men, and half a dozen women. These people 
were just about to go into the house, but stood back to let 
Doctor Burns — ^whom all of them knew — and Miss Ray — 
whom one of them knew — go in ahead. 

As she went up the steps Jane braced herself for what 
she must see. Little fair-haired Sadie — come to this so 


RED AND BLACK 


54 

early — so tragically — and nobody to care — nobody to 
say a prayer — except a red-headed doctor, whose business 
it was not. At least — she had an armful of white roses. 
She wanted to take one look at Sadie — and then lay the 
roses so that they would cover her from the sight of the 
hard eyes all about her. She would do that — ^just that. 
Why not.^ What better could she do.? She drew her 
breath deep, and set her lips, and walked into the poor 
little room 

The thing she saw first was a glowing handful of won- 
derful pink rosebuds upon the top of the cheap black box 
— one could not dignify it by any other word than Burns 
had used — which held the chief position in the room. 
And then, at the foot of the box, she saw a tall figure with 
an open book in his hand come to do Sadie Dunstan 
honour. Jane Ray caught back the sob of relief which 
had all but leaped to her lips. She had not known, until 
that moment, how much she had wanted that prayer — ■ 
she, who did not pray — or thought she did not. 

Mr. Munson, in a hurry, watch in hand, allowed the few 
neighbours who had come barely time to crowd into the 
small room before he signalled the minister to go ahead 
and get it over. He was not an unfeeling man, but he had 
two more services on for the day — costly affairs — and 
both his assistants were ill, worse luck!, and he had had 
to look after this country backwoods burial himself. He 
had noted with some surprise the appearance of Doctor 
Burns and Miss Ray, though there was no use in ever 
being surprised at anything the erratic doctor might do. 
As for Miss Ray — he admired her very much, both for 
her charming personality and her business ability, which 
compelled everybody’s respect. He wondered what on 
earth brought her here — ^what brought all three of them 


NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 55 

here, slowing things up when the body might have been 
committed to the dust with the throwing of a few clods 
by his own competent fingers — and everybody in this 
heathen community better satisfied than the Stone Church 
man was likely to make them with his ritual. Thus 
thought Mr. Munson in his own heart, and all but showed 
it in his face. 

But Black, though he held his book in his hand, gave 
them no ritual — not here in the house. He had meant 
to read the usual service, abbreviating and modifying it 
as he must. But somehow, as he had noted one face after 
the other — the impassive faces of the few men and women, 
the surlily stoic one of the old grandmother, the tear-wet 
one of the wretched young sister in her shabby short 
frock — and then had glanced just once at the set jaw of 
R. P. Burns and the desperate pity in the dark eyes of 
Jane Ray, he had felt impelled to change his plan. 

Red, listening, now heard Black pray, as a man prays 
whose heart is very full, but whose mind and lips can do 
his bidding under stress. It was a very simple prayer — 
it could not be otherwise because Black was praying with 
just one desire in his heart, to reach and be understood 
by the one real mourner there before him. It is quite 
possible that he remembered less the One to whom he 
spoke than this little one by whom he wanted to be heard. 
It was for the little sobbing sister that he formulated each 
direct, heart-touching phrase, that she might know that 
after all there was Someone — a very great and pitiful 
Someone — who knew and cared because she had lost all 
she had in a hard and unpitiful world. And speaking 
thus, for her alone. Black quite forgot that Red was listen- 
ing — and Red, somehow, knew that he forgot. 

Jane Ray listened, too — it was not possible to do any- 


56 RED AND BLACK 

thing else. Jane had never heard any one pray like that,- 
she had not known it was ever done. It was at that 
moment that she first knew that the man who was speak- 
ing was a real man; such words could have been so spoken 
by no man who was not real, no matter how clever an actor 
he might be. Something in Jane’s heart which had been 
hard toward any man of Black’s profession — because 
she had known one or two whom she could not respect, 
and had trusted none of them on that account — softened 
a little while Black prayed. At least — this man was real. 
And she was glad — oh, glad — that he was saying words 
like these over the fair, still head of Sadie Dunstan, and 
that the little sister, who looked so like her that the sight 
of her shook Jane’s heart, could hear. 

Jane still held her roses when, after a while, the whole 
small group stood in the barren, ill-kept burial place which 
was all this poor community had in which to bestow its 
dead. It was only across the road and over the hill by a 
few rods, and when Mr. Munson had been about to send 
Sadie in his wagon. Black had whispered a word in his ear, 
and then had taken his place at one side of the black box 
with its glowing roses on the top. Red, discerning his 
Intention, had taken two strides to the other side, displac- 
ing a shambling figure of a man who was slowly approach- 
ing for this duty. Mr. Munson, now seeing a reveal- 
ing light, waved the unwilling bearer aside, and himself 
took the other end of the box. Together the three, looking 
like very fine gentlemen all — in contrast to those who fol- 
lowed — bore Sadie in decorum to her last resting place. 

Now came the ritual indeed — every word of it — brief 
and beautiful, with its great phrases. When Mr. Munson, 
clods in hand, cast them at the moment — ashes to ashes, 
dust to dust ,** — ^Jane flung her white roses so swiftly down 


NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 


57 

after them that the little sister never saw the dark earth 
fall. Then she turned and took the trembling young 
figure in her own warm arms — and looking up, over Sue’s 
head, Jane’s eyes, dark with tears, met full the under-^ 
standing, joyfully approving eyes of Robert Black. . . . 

Striding down the hill, presently, having refused the 
offer of Mr. Munson to take him back in his own small 
car. Black was passed by Red and Jane, with a shabby 
little figure between them. At the foot of the hill the 
car stopped, and waited for Black to catch up. He came 
to its side, hat in hand, his eyes friendlily on Sue Dunstan, 
who looked up at him shyly through red lids. 

“Will you ride on the running board — at least till we 
get to the trolley?” offered Red. “I thought you had 
gone with Munson. What’s the matter? Was he in too 
much of a hurry to look after the minister?” 

“No, he asked me. But I want to walk, thank you. 
I’m pretty fond of the country, and don’t often get so far 
out.” 

“It was very good of you to come,” said Jane Ray, 
gravely. “It — made all the difference. Mr. Munson 
told us he didn’t ask you — you offered. But it’s impossi- 
ble not to wonder how you knew.” 

“My housekeeper came from somewhere near this 
region — she told me. It was very easy to come — easier 
than to stay away, after knowing. What a day this is— 
and what a view! Don’t let me keep you — good bye.” 
And he turned away even before Red, always in a hurry 
though he was, would have suggestively speeded his throb- 
bing motor — a device by which he was accustomed to 
make a get-away from a passer-by who had held him up. 
As he went on Red put out an arm and waved a parting 
salute to the man behind him, at which Black, seeing the 


58 RED AND BLACK 

friendly signal, smiled at the landscape in general, address- 
ing it thus: 

“You wouldn’t do that, Red-Head, if you weren’t be- 
ginning to like me just a bit — now would you ?” 

The car was barely out of sight when he heard a shriek 
behind him, and turning, found himself pursued by one 
of the women who had been in the cottage. She was 
waving a parcel at him — a small parcel done up in a ragged 
piece of newspaper, as he saw when he had returned to 
meet her. She explained that it contained some few be- 
longings of Sue Dunstan which the girl had forgotten. 

“They ain’t much, but she might want ’em. She won’t 
be cornin’ back, I guess — not if that Miss Ray keeps her 
that kept Sade before. She better keep a look-out on 
Sue — she’s the same blood, an’ it ain’t no good.” 

“Thank you — I’ll take this to her,” Black agreed. His 
hat was off, as if she had been a lady, this unkempt woman 
who regarded him curiously. He was saying to himself 
that here was a place to which he must come again, it 
was so near — and yet so very, very far. 

She would have stayed him to gossip about both Sadie 
and Sue, but he would have none of that, turned the talk 
his own way, and presently got away as adroitly as ever 
Red had done, leaving -her looking after him with an ex- 
pression of mingled wonder and admiration. Somehow 
he had given her the impression of his friendliness, and 
his democracy — and yet of the difference between herself 
and him. There was, once, a Man, beside a wayside well, 
who had given that same impression. 

Until late evening he was busy; calls — a manse wedding 
— a committee meeting — an hour’s study — so the rest 
of the June day went. But just as dusk was falling he 
tucked the newspaper parcel under his arm and went down 


NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 59 

Jane Ray’s side street. He did not know at all if she 
could be found at this hour, but he had an idea that Jane 
lived above her shop, and that if she were at home a bell 
which he had seen beside the door would bring her. 

The [shop was softly lighted with many candles, 
though no one seemed to be inside. When he tried the 
door, however, it was locked, and he rang the bell. A 
minute later he saw Jane coming through the shop from 
the back, and the suggestion of the hostess moving 
through attractive apartments was more vivid than ever. 
The door opened. Black held out his parcel. 

“Fm sorry to bother you at this hour. Miss Ray, but 
I believe it’s something the little girl left behind, and I 
thought she might want it to-night. I couldn’t get here 
earliet.” 

“Oh, thank you! Won’t you come in a minute and see 
Sue? Fd like you to see how different — and how dear — 
she looks. She’s just back in the garden.” Jane’s ex- 
pression was eager — not at all businesslike. She might 
have been a young mother offering to show her child. 

“Garden?” questioned Black, following Jane through 
the candle-lighted shop. 

“Actually a garden. You wouldn’t think it, would you? 
But there is one — a very tiny one — and it’s the joy of my 
life.” 

I At the back of the shop she opened a door into one of 
the most inviting little rooms Black ever had seen — or 
dreamed of. Not crowded with antiques or curios — just 
a simple home room, furnished and hung with the most 
exquisite taste — a very jewel of a room, and lighted with 
a low lamp which threw into relief the dark polished surface 
of a table upon which stood a long row of finely bound 
books. But he was led quickly through this — though he 


6o 


RED AND BLACK 


wanted to linger and look about him — through an outer 
door of glass which opened directly upon the garden. 
Well! 

“IBs not very much,” said Jane, “as gardens go — but 
Rm terribly proud of it, just the same.” 

“IBs* wonderful!” Black exclaimed. “What a spot — 
among all these old brick buildings! Why — it looks like 
an English garden; every bit of space used — and all those 
trim walks — and the seat under the trees. Great!” And 
his eye dwelt delightedly on the box borders filled with 
flowers, on the tall rows of blue delphiniums and holly- 
hocks against the walls, on the one great elm tree at the 
back of it all beneath which stood a rustic seat. 

“But here’s something better yet,” said Jane’s voice 
quietly, beside him, and she brought him out upon the 
narrow, vine-hung porch which ran all across the back of 
the house. Here, on a footstool beside a big chair, sat 
Sue Dunstan, a little figure all in white, with hair in shining 
fair order as if it had just been washed and brushed, and 
shy eyes no longer red with tears. And Sue looked — yes, 
she looked as if she had forgotten everything in the world — ' 
except to love Jane Ray! 

And then — she recognized the man who had stood at her 
sister’s feet that morning and said strange words which had 
somehow comforted her. A flood of colour rushed into her 
cheeks — she crouched upon the footstool, not daring to 
look up again. Black sat down in the chair beside her — 
he knew Jane had been sitting there before him. He 
said Miss Ray had let him come out for just a minute to 
see the garden, and wasn’t it a beautiful garden? He had 
known a garden something like that once, he said, and 
never another since, and he wondered if he could make one 
like it behind his house. Sue wasn’t sure — she shook her 


NOBODY TO SAY A PRAYER 6i 

head — she seemed to think no one but Miss Pvay could 
make such a garden. 

Black didn’t stay long — he knew he wasn’t ex- 
pected to. But he had made friends with Sue before he 
went — poor child, who had no friends. And he almost 
thought he had made friends with Jane Ray, too. Some- 
how he found himself wanting to do that — he didn’t quite 
know why. Perhaps it was because she was very evi- 
dently a friend of Red. Yes — he thought that must be 
the reason why she interested him so much. 

As they came back through the shop Jane paused to 
snuff a flaming candle with an old pair of brass snuffers — 
her face was full of colour in the rosy light— and remarked, 
‘T’m going to have an exhibition of war posters some 
evening before long, Mr. Black — for the benefit of French 
and Belgian orphans. Would you care to speak of it 
among your friends? I think you saw some of the first 
posters I received. I have more and very wonderful ones 
now — many of them quite rare already. I want to attract 
the people with plenty of money — and some interest in 
things over there.” 

“Pll be delighted to mention it in church next Sunday, ’ 
Black offered promptly. 

‘^Oh— really?” 

‘‘Why not?” 

“7 don’t know why not. I supposed you would. Your 
church people — they don’t like ” 

“Don’t they? — Pll be all the more delighted to mention 
the war posters, then. Thank you for giving me the 
chance. And for showing me the garden — and Sue. 
She’s a lucky girl — and so are you, aren’t you? — ^to have 
such a chance. You’ll make the most of it. Miss Ray, 
I think Sue never heard of— Somebody she ought to know. 


62 


RED AND BLACK 


She needs Him — even more than she needs you. Teach 
her the story of Him — will you? You don’t mind my 
saying it? You couldn’t mind — you care for her! Good- 
night!” 

Jane Ray looked after the tall figure, striding swiftly 
away up the side street through the June twilight. 

“You certainly aren’t afraid,” she thought, “to say ex- 
actly what you think. I like you for that, anyhow.” 


CHAPTER V 

PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 


R obert black was dressing for a dinner — a men’s'* 
dinner, to which Samuel Lockhart [had invited him,, 
and Tom Lockhart had commanded him. 

“You see, Fve got to be there,” Tom had explained.. 
“And Dad always asks a lot of ponderous old personages 
who bore you to death — or else make you red with rage 
at some of their fossil ideas. The only thing that saves 
the case for me to-night is that you’re coming. I’ve 
stipulated that I sit near you — see? Mother wouldn’t 
hear of my being next you — that honour is reserved for one 
of your trustees.” 

“I assure you I’m immensely flattered,” Black had re- 
plied, with a real sense of warmth about the heart. He 
had grown steadily fonder of this interesting boy who was 
all but a man. “ But isn’t your good friend Doctor Burns 
to be there? Surely he’d save anybody from boredom.”* 
“There!” Tom’s tone was mocking. “Yes, he’ll 
be there — after he comes — and before he goes. He’ll 
come in just in time for the salad — no evening dress, just 
good old homespun, because he’s had no time to change. 
Then he’ll be called out before the coffee and the smokes — 
but he’ll ask for a cup, just the same, and swallow it 
standing. Then he’ll go out — and all the lights’ll go out 
for me. with him— except] that you’re^ there to keep the. 
brain fires burning.” 

63 


RED AND BLACK 


64 

Black had laughed at this dismal picture, and had 
told the youngster that he would ^endeavour to save his 
life in the crisis. But now, as he dressed, he was not 
looking forward to the event. To tell the truth, although 
he had been present at many college and fraternity ban- 
quets, this was actually his first experience at a formal 
dinner in a private home. He was even experiencing a 
few doubts as to how to dress. 

Good judgment, however, assured him that the one 
safe decision for a clerical diner-out was clerical dress. 
Having satisfied himself that every hair was in place, but 
having found one of his accessories missing, he went in 
search of Mrs. Hodder. 

“I don’t seem to find a handkerchief in’my drawer, Mrs. 
Hodder,” he announced, standing in the doorway of the 
kitchen and glancing suggestively toward a basketful of 
unironed clothes below the table at which his housekeeper 
sat. 

‘‘You don’t, Mr. Black?” Mrs. Hodder exclaimed. 
“Mercy me — I’ll iron you one in a jiffy. If I may make 
so bold as to say so, sir, it’s not my fault. You use hand- 
kerchiefs rather lavish for one who — who owns so few.” 

“Haven’t I enough? I’ll get some more at once. Do 
I — do you mind telling me if I look as if I were going out 
to dinner?” 

The housekeeper turned and surveyed him. Approval 
lighted her previously sombre eye. “You look as if yoi; 
were just going to get married,” she obsei;yed. 

An explosion of unclerical-like laughter answered her. 
*'But I’m dressed no differently from the way I am on 
Sundays,” he reminded her. 

“You have your gown on in the pulpit. And the minute 
you come home vou’re out of that long coat and into tht 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 65 

short one. Pve never seen you stay looking the way you 
do now five minutes, Mr. Black.” 

“That must be why Pm so unhappy now. Fve got to 
stay in this coat for an entire evening. Pity me, Mrs.. 
Hodder! And don’t wait up, please. I may be rather 
late.” 

He marched away, followed by the adoring gaze of his 
housekeeper. Mrs. Hodder’s austerity of -countenance 
belied her softness of heart. If the minister had guessed 
how like a mother she felt toward him he might have been 
both touched and alarmed. 

Arrived at the Lockharts’, he found himself welcomed 
first by Tom, who met him, as if accidentally, at the very 
door. 

“The heavy-weights are all here,” announced the boy 
under his breath, his arm linked in Black’s, as he led his 
friend upstairs. “Bald — half of ’em are bald! And the 
rest look as solemn as if this were a funeral instead of a 
dinner. Maybe they feel that way. I’m sure I do. I 
say — don’t you wish we could jump into my car and burn 
it down the road about fifty miles into the moonlight?. 
There’s a gorgeous moon to-night.” 

“Ask me after the dinner is over, and I’ll go.” \ 

“What? Will you? You won’t — no such luck!”' 

“Try me and see.” 

“You bet I will. See here — you promise? It’ll be 
late, I warn you. Father’s dinners drag on till kingdom 
come.” 

“Any time before morning.” And Black looked into 
the laughing, incredulous eyes of the youth before him. 

“You’re no minister,” Tom chuckled. “You’re a dead 
game sport.” Then he drew back suddenly at the flash 
in the black eyes. 


66 RED AND BLACK 

Don't make a mistake about that,” suggested Black, 
quietly. 

“Oh — I guess you are a minister, all right,” admitted 
Tom, respectfully. “And I guess perhaps I want you to 
be.” 

“I’m very sure you do.” Black smiled again. “Did 
you think I couldn’t take a late spin in your car without 
compromising my profession.^” 

“I just thought — for a minute,” whispered the boy, 
“I^awa bit of a reckless devil look out of your eyes. I 
thought — you wanted to get away, like me, from this 
heavy dinner business — and go to — ^just any old place!” 

“Perhaps I do. But I don’t intend to think about 
moonlight drives till I’ve done my part here. Come on, 
Tom — let’s be Mead game sports’ and help make things go. 
Afterward — we’ll take the trail with good consciences.” 

“Anything to please you. I was going to bolt whenever 
R. P. Burns got called out; but I’ll wait for you.” 

“You seem to be sure he’ll be called out. Perhaps he 
won’t, for once.” 

“Not a chance. Wait and see,” prophesied Tom; and 
together they descended the stairs. 

Tom stood off at one side, after that, with the apparent 
deference of youth. His eyes were sharp with interest 
in Black, whose presence relieved for him the tedium of 
the affair. He saw the minister shaking hands, making 
acquaintances, joining groups, with a certain straightfor- 
wardness of manner which pleased the critical youth im- 
mensely. Like most young men, he despised what is easily 
recognized in any company as that peculiar clerical at- 
mosphere which surrounds so many men of Black’s pro- 
fession. He didn’t want a minister to bow a little lower, 
iiold the proffered hand a little longer, speak in a little 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 67 

more unctuous tone than other men. He wanted his 
minister to hold his head high, to make no attempts ta 
ingratiate himself into his companions’ good graces by 
saying things too patently calculated to please them; he 
didn’t want him to agree with everybody — he wanted 
him to differ with them healthily often. As he watched 
Black’s way of looking a new acquaintance straight in 
the eye, as if to discover what manner of man he was, and 
then of letting the other man take the lead in conver- 
sation instead of instantly and skillfully assuming the 
lead, as if he considered himself a born dictator of the 
thoughts and words of others — ^well — ^Tom said to himself 
once more that he was jolly glad Robert McPherson Black 
had come to this parish. Since it always devolved upon 
the Lockhart family to show first friendliness to new in- 
cumbents of that parish, it mattered much to Tom that 
he could heartily like this man. He was even beginning 
to think of him as his friend — his special friend. And as, 
from time to time, his eyes met Black’s across the room, 
he had a warm consciousness that Black had not forgotten 
but was looking forward to the hour that should release 
them both for that fast drive down the empty, moonlit 
road. Reward enough for a dull evening, that would be; 
to take the black-eyed Scotsman for such a whirl across 
country as he probably had never known! 

But first — the dinner! And Red hadn’t come — of 
course he hadn’t — when the party moved out to the dining 
room and took their places at the big table with its im- 
pressive centrepiece of lights and flowers, its rather 
gorgeous layout of silver and glass, and its waiting atten- 
dants. Red hadn’t arrived when the soup and fish had 
come and gone; when the roast fowl was served; it wasn’t 
till Tom had begun to give him up that the big doctor 


68 


RED AND BLACK 


suddenly put his red head in at the door and stood there 
looking silently in upon the company. Tom sprang up 
joyfully, and rushed across the room. Red came forward, 
shook hands with his host, and took his place — opposite 
Black, as it happened. 

And instantly — to two people at least — the room was 
another place. It’s Stevenson, isn’t it? — who mentions 
that phenomenon we have all so many times observed — 
that the entrance of some certain person into a room makes 
it seem “as if another candle had been lighted!” Won- 
derful phrase that — and blessed people of whom it can 
be said! Of such people, certainly R. P. Burns, M. D., 
was a remarkable type. Nobody like him for turning on 
not only one but fifty candlepower. 

Yet all he did was to sit down — in his customary gray 
suit, quite as Tom had said he would, having had no time 
to change — grin round the table, and say, “Going to feed 
me up from the beginning, Lockhart? Oh, never mind. 
A good plateful of whatever fowl you’ve had, and a cup of 
coffee will suit me down to the ground. Coffee not served 
yet, Parker?” He turned to the manservant at his elbow. 
'‘But you see” — with an appealing glance at his host — 
“I’ve had no lunch to-day — and it’s nearly ten. I’m just 
about ready for that coffee.” Then he surveyed again 
the hitherto serious gentlemen about him, who were now 
looking suddenly genial, and remarked, “You fellows don’t 
know what it is to be hungry. No one here but me has 
done an honest day’s work.” 

“Do you mind telling us what time yours began. Doctor 
Burns?” asked Black, across the table. 

The hazel eyes encountered the black ones for the second 
time. Black had been the first man Red looked at as he sat 
down — his greeting grin had therefore started with Black. 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 69 

“Twelve-five a. m. No thanks to me. I gave th^ 
fellow blue blazes for calling me, but he was one of thosQ 
persistent chaps, and rang me up every ten minutes till 
I gave’ in and went . . . Excuse the shop. . . 

What were you all talking about? Keep it up, please, 
while I employ myself.” 

Somebody told him they had been talking about the 
Great War in Europe — and received a quick, rather 
cynical glance from the hazel eyes. Somebody else ob- 
served that it was to be hoped we’d keep our heads and 
not get into it — and had a fiery glance shot at him, de- 
cidedly disdainful. Then a third man said sadly that he 
had a son who was giving him trouble, wanting to go and 
enlist with the Canadians, and he wished he knev/ how 
to talk sense into the boy. 

“Better thank the Lord you’ve bred such a lad!” 
ejaculated Red, between two gulps of coffee. 

“Of course I am proud of his spirit,” admitted the un- 
happy father. “But there’s no possible reason why he 
should do such a wild thing. His mother is nearly out of 
her mind with fear that if we keep on opposing him he’ll 
run away.” 

“ If he does, you’ll wish you had sent him willingly, won’t 
you?” suggested Black. “Why not let him go?” 

William Jennings, treasurer of Black’s church, turned 
on his minister an astonished eye. “You don’t mean to 
say you say that?” 

“Why not? I have three young nephews over there, 
in the Scottish ranks. They need all the help they can 
have from us. If we don’t get in as a country pretty soon 
now — more than your boy will run away. Look at the 
fellows who’ve already gone from our colleges, and more 
going all the time.” 


70 RED AND BLACK 

‘‘Mr. Black,” — a solemn voice spoke from down the 
table — “Fve been given to’ understand you are in sym- 
pathy with war. I can hardly believe it.” 

Black looked at the speaker, and his eyes sparkled with 
a sudden fire. “That’s rather a strange way of putting 
it,” he said. “Perhaps you might rather say I am in 
sympathy with those who have had war thrust upon them. 
1^at else is there to do but to make war back — to end 
it?” 

“There are other ways — there must be. A great Chris- 
tian nation must use those ways — not throw itself blindly 
into the horrible carnage. Our part is to teach the world 
the lesson of peace as Christ did.” 

“How did He teach it?” The question came back, like 
a shot. 

The man who had spoken delayed a little, finding it 
<lifiicult to formulate his answer. “Why, by His life. His 

example. His precepts ” he said. “He was the Man 

of Peace — He told us to turn the other cheek ” 

Red’s keen eyes were on Black now. He had opened 
his own lips, in his own impulsive way — and hacj closed 
them as quickly. “What’s in you?” his eyes said to 
Black. “Have you got it in you to down this fool? Or 
must I?” And he forgot how hungry he was. 

When Black spoke, every other eye was on him as well. 
He spoke quietly enough, yet his words rang with convic- 
tion. “My Christ,” he said, “if He were on earth now, 
and the enemy were threatening Mary, His mother, or 
the other Mary, or the little children He had called to 
Him, would seize the sword in His own hand, to defend 
them.” 

Red sat back. Over his face swept a flame of relief. 
Tom breathed quickly. Samuel Lockhart glanced about 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 


71 


him, and saw on some faces startled approval and on 
others astonishment and anger. 

Then the talk raged — of course. This was in those 
days, already difficult to recall, when men differed about 
the part America should take in the conflict; when dread 
of involvement called forth strange arguments, unsound 
logic; when personal fear for their sons made fathers 
stultify themselves by advocating a course which should 
keep the boys out of danger. Several of the guests at 
Mr. Lockhart’s table were fathers of sons in college — 
substantial business or professional men alive with fear 
that the war sentiment flaming at the great centres of 
education would catch the tow and tinder of the young 
men’s imagination, and that before long, whether America 
should declare war or not, instead of isolated enlistments 
the whole flower of the country’s youth would be off for 
the scene of the great disaster. 

Suddenly Red brought his fist down on the table, 

“You’re afraid,” he cried, ‘‘of the personal issue, you 
fellows! Forget that you have sons — let the sons forget 
that they have fathers. What’s America’s plain duty? 
Good God — it’s as plain as a pikestaff! She’s got to get 
in — to keep her own self-respect.” 

“And to save her own soul,” added Black; and again 
the eyes of the two men met across the table. 

It was at this instant that Tom Lockhart took fire. 
Up to these last words of Red and Black he had been 
merely intensely interested and excited; now, suddenly, 
he was aglow with eagerness to show where he stood, he 
of the class who in all wars are first to offer themselves. 
Almost before he knew it he had spoken, breaking 
the silence which had succeeded upon Black’s grave 
words. 


72 


RED AND BLACK 


“Fm ready to go,” he said, and a great flush spread over 
his fair young face to the roots of his thick, sandy hair. 

Then, indeed, the table was in an uproar — a subdued 
uproar, to be sure, but none the less throbbing with con- 
trary opinion. As for Samuel Lockhart himself, he could 
only stare incredulously at his boy, but the other men, 
with the exception of the doctor and the minister, were 
instantly upon Tom with hurried words of disapproval. 
William Jennings, who sat next him, turned and laid a 
remonstrating hand on Tom’s arm. 

“My boy,” he said, fiercely — it was he whose son was 
likely to enlist with Canada — “you don’t know what 
you’re talking about. For Heaven’s sake, don’t lose your 
head like my George! There isn’t any call for you young- 
sters to take this thing seriously — leave it to the ones who 
are of military age, at least. They’ve got enough men 
over there, an3rway, to see this war through; if we send 
money and munitions, the way we are doing, that’s our 
part, and a big part it is, too.” 

Well, Tom found himself wishing in a way that he 
hadn’t spoken up, since it had brought all the heavy- 
weights down on his , undeniably boyish self. And yet, 
somehow, when he had glanced just once at Red and 
Black, he couldn’t be entirely sorry. Both had given him 
a look which he would have done much to earn, and neither 
had said a word of remonstrance. 

Yet, after the dinner, his impression that they were 
both eager to have him carry his expression of willingness 
into that of a fixed purpose, suflFered an unexpected change. 
As they rose from the table, at a late hour. Red — who had 
not been called out yet after all — slipped his arm through 
Tom’s, and spoke in his ear. 

“Fm proud of you, lad,” he said, “but I want you to 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 


73 

think this thing through to the end. Duty sometimes 
takes one form and sometimes another. Tve been watch- 
ing your father, and — ^you see — you dealt him a pretty 
heavy blow to-night, and he hasn’t been quite the same 
man since. Go slow — that’s only fair to him. You’re not 
twenty-one yet, are you ? ” 

‘‘Pretty near. Next January.” 

“Keep cool till then. We may be in it as a country by 
then — I hope so. If we are — perhaps you and I ” 

Tom thrilled. “Will you go. Doctor?” 

“You bet I will! I’d have been off long ago if 

But I can’t tell you the reason just now. Some day, 
perhaps. Meanwhile ” 

He looked at Tom, and Tom looked at him. Then, 
both of them, for some unexplainable reason, turned and 
looked toward Black, whose eyes were following them. 

“Do you suppose he’ll go if we do declare war?” whis- 
pered Tom. 

A queer expression crossed Red’s face. “They mostly 
don’t — his class,” he said, rather contemptuously. 

“Do you think — ” Tom hesitated — “he’s — ^just like his 
class?” 

“Not — ^just like those I’ve known,” admitted Red, 
grudgingly. “That is — on the surface. Can’t tell how 
deep the difference goes, yet.” 

“I like him!” avowed Tom, honestly. 

Red laughed. “Good for you!” he commented. “I’m 
— trying rather hard not to like him.” 

Tom stared. “Oh — why not?” he questioned, eagerly. 

But he didn’t hear the explanation of this extraordinary 
statement, for one of the older men came up and hauled 
him away by the arm, and he had a bad time of it, mostly, 
for the rest of the evening. He was only restrained from 


74 RED AND BLACK 

making a bolt and getting away from the house by the 
Vemembrance of Black’s promise. 

The time came, however, when for a moment he feared 
it was all up with that moonlight spin. He had just 
slipped out upon the porch and assured himself that the 
night was continuing to be the finest ever, when he heard 
Red inside taking leave. He hurried back, and discov- 
ered that the other men were evidently about to take the 
cue and go also. He came around to Black’s elbow in 
time to hear Red address the minister. 

“Happen to be in the mood for a run of a few miles in 
my car?” Red invited, in his careless way which left a 
man free to accept or refuse as he chose. “I have to see 
a patient yet to-night. It was a pretty fine night when 
I came in.” 

, Tom couldn’t know — ^how could he.? — what, in the cir- 
cumstances, it cost Black to reply as he promptly did: 

“Thank you — I’d like nothing better — except what I’m 
going to have: the same thing with Tom Lockhart.” 

Now Tom was a gentleman, and he hastened to release 
Black from his promise, though his face plainly showed 
his disappointment. 

“Please go with the Doctor, if you like, Mr. Black. 
His car can put it all over mine — and he doesn’t ask any- 
body very often — as I happen to know.” 

Black smiled. “I’m engaged to you, Tom,” he said, 
“ and I’m going with you, if you’ll take me. Mighty sorry 
I can’t be in two places at the same time. Doctor Burns.” 

“All right,” answered Red — and wouldn’t have ad- 
mitted for a farm that he was disappointed. “As for 
Tom’s car — it’s a whale,” he added, “ and can show my'old 
Faithful the dust any time. Good-night, then!” 

Whichever was the better car, certain it was that Black, 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 


75 

in Tom’s, had his first sensation of tremendous speed 
during the hour which followed. The boy was excited* 
by the events of the evening, he was a skillful and daring 
driver, and he was conscious of being able to give an older 
man a perfectly new experience. Black had frankly told 
him that he had never before taken a night drive in a 
powerful roadster, with the speed limit whatever the driver 
chose to make it. Under this stimulus Tom chose to make 
it pretty nearly the extreme of his expensive motor’s 
power. The result was that very soon the minister’s hat 
was in his hand, and his close-cut black hair taking the stiff 
breeze, like Tom’s, as the car gathered herself afresh to fly 
down each new stretch of clear road. 

“Like it?” shouted Tom, suddenly, as he slowed down 
for a sharp curve. 

“It’s great!” 

“Don’t mind how fast we go?” 

“Not while I trust you — as I do.” 

“You do trust me, eh?” The boy’s voice was exultant. 

“To the limit.” 

“Why do you?” 

“Because you know my life is in your hands. You 
wouldn’t risk cutting it short.” 

The motor slackened perceptibly. “There’s not the 
least danger of that.” 

“Of course not — ^with your hands on the wheel. Go 
ahead — don’t slow down. You haven’t shown me yet 
quite what the car can do, have you?” 

“Well — not quite. Pretty near, though. I knew you 
were a good sport. Lots of older men get nervous when 
we hit — what we were hitting. Not even R. P. B. drives 
in quite that notch — and he’s no coward. He says it’s 
all right, if you don’t happen to throw a tire. I never 


76 RED AND BLACK 

expect to throw one — not at that pace. Never have. 
Maybe I better not take any chances with the minister in^ 
though.” 

‘‘Take any that you’d take for yourself,” commanded 
Black. Tom, diminishing his pace of necessity for a 
one-way bridge, glanced quickly round at his companion, 
to see what Black’s face might reveal that his cool speech 
did not. He saw no trace of fear in the clean-cut profile 
outlined against the almost daylight of the vivid night; 
instead he saw a man seemingly at ease under conditions 
which usually, Tom reflected, rather strung most fellows 
up, old or young. 

Suddenly Tom spoke his mind: “You are a good 
sport,” he said, in his ardent young way. “They mostly 
aren’t, though, in your business, are they? — honestly 
now? You would go to war, though, wouldn’t you?” 

Then he saw a change of expression indeed. Black’s^ 
lips tightened, his chin seemed to protrude more than 
usual — and, as we have stated before, it was a frankly ag- 
gressive chin at any time. Black’s head came round, and 
his eyes seemed to look straight through Tom’s into his 
cynical young thoughts. 

“Tom,” he said — waited a bit, and then went on, slowly 
and with peculiar emphasis — “there’s just one thing I 
can never take peaceably from any man — and I don’t 
think I have to take it. I have the honour to belong to a 
profession which includes thousands of the finest men in 
the world — just as your friend Doctor Burns’ profession 
includes thousands of fine men. You — and others — never 
think of hitting at the profession of medicine and surgery 
just because you may happen to know a man here and 
there who isn’t a particularly worthy member ©f it. 
There are quacks and charlatans in medicine — but the 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 


77 

profession isn’t judged by them. Is it quite fair to judge 
the ministry by some man you have known who didn’t 
5eem to measui^e up ? ” 

‘‘Why — no, of course not,” admitted Tom. “It’s just 
that — I suppose — well — I don’t think there are so many 
of ’em who — who ” 

“Want to drive seventy miles an hour — at midnight?” 

Tom laughed boyishly. “I don’t expect that, of 
course. But I don’t like long prayers, to tell the truth; 
and most of the sermons find fault with folks because 
they don’t happen to come up to the preacher’s mark, 
and I get fed up on ’em.” 

“Do you like Doctor Burns’ medicine? He set your 
leg once, you told me. Did you like that — especially?” 

“Oh, well — if you want to call sermons medicine ” 

began Tom, slyly. 

“That’s exactly what many of them are — or should be 
• — and pretty bitter medicine, too, at that, sometimes. 
Shouldn’t a man have your respect who dares to risk 
your dislike by giving you the medicine he thinks you 
need? Is the man who ventures to stand up and tell you 
the plain truth about yourself, whether you like it or not, 
exactly a coward?” 

“You’re certainly no coward,” said Tom, with emphasis. 

“Did you ever happen to know a minister , who you 
thought was a coward ? ” 

“Not exactly. But — if you want the truth — I don’t 
think, if this country should get into war, you’d see an 
awful lot of preachers going into it. Why — they don’t 
believe in it. They ” 

“Wait and see. We shall get into it — sooner or later — I 
hope sooner. And when we do — I don’t think the regi- 
ments will be lacking chaplains.” 


RED AND BLACK 


78 

‘‘Oh!— chaplains!” 

“You think that’s a soft job, do you? Do you happen 
to have been reading much about the English and French 
chaplains over there, since the war began? And the 
priests?” 

“Can’t say I have,” admitted Tom. 

“The only difference that I can find,” said Black, in a 
peculiar quiet tone which when he knew him better Tom 
discovered to mean deadly earnestness — with a bite in it — 
“between a chaplain’s job and a fig]htin,g man’s, is that 
the right sort of chaplain goes unarmed where the soldier 
goes armed — and takes about as many chances, fir st and 
last. And when it comes to bracing the men’s courage 
before the fight — and after — well, I think I covet the chap- 
lain’s chance even more than I do the captain’s.” 

They drove in silence after that for exactly three and 
three quarter miles, which, at Tom’s now modified pace, 
took about five minutes. Then Black said: 

“I didn’t answer the other part of your question, did I, 
Tom?” 

“About whether you’d go to war?” Tom turned, with a 
satisfied smile on his lips. “ I’ve been thinking about that. 
But I guess you answered it, all right.” 

At one o’clock in the morning Tom set Black down be- 
fore the manse. For the last half-hour they had had a 
jolly talk which had ranged from guns to girls — and back 
again to guns. Black seemed to know more about the 
guns than the girls, though he had listened with interest 
to Tom’s remarks upon both subjects, and had contributed 
an anecdote or two which had made Tom shout with glee. 
When Black stood upon the sidewalk, a tall, straight figure 
in the moonlight, he held out his hand, which Tom gripped 
eagerly. 


PLAIN AS A PIKESTAFF 79 

“Thank you for the best hour Fve had m a month. 
That blew all the fog out of my brain, and put a wonderful 
new idea into my head.” 

“Mind telling me what it is?” Tom asked. 

“ If you’ll keep it quiet till I have it under way. Do you 
think we can get a group of fellows, friends of yours and 
others, to come to my house once a week — say on Monday 
evenings — to talk over this war situation — study it up — 
discuss it freely — and plan what we can do about it, over 
here — before we get over there?” 

“Do I think so?” Tom’s tone spoke his pleasure as well 
as the chuckling laugh he gave. “Do I think so? Why, 
the fellows will be crazy to come — after I tell ’em about 
this drive and chin of ours. When they know you burned 
the road with me at such a clip and never turned a hair, 
they’ll fall over one another to get to your house.” 

He enjoyed to the full the laugh he got back from Black 
at that — a deep-keyed, whole-souled, delightful laugh, 
which told of the richness of the man’s nature. Then — - 

“ I’d drive at a hundred, hours on end,” declared Black, 
“to have you fall in with my schemes like that. Good- 
night, Tom, and we’ll organize that club to-morrow.” 

“To-day, you mean.” Tom reluctantly gave his motor 
the signal. 

“To-day. At eight o’clock to-night. Be on hand early, 
will you, Tom — to help me make things go from the start ? ” 

“I’ll be sitting on your doorstep at seven thirty.” 

“Good. I’ll open the door at seven twenty-nine. 
Good-night, Tom.” 

“Good-night, Mr. Black.” 

But so slowly did Tom drive away that h'^ was not 
out of sight of the manse Vhen the door closed on his 
friend the minister. 


CHAPTER VI 

HIGH LIGHTS 



HERE!’’ said Jane Ray, turning on one last golden 


electric bulb cunningly concealed. “I’ve used 
every device I know to make the showing tell. Is it 
effective? Does it all count, Mrs. Burns? I’ve studied 
it so much I don’t know any more.” 

Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns stood beside Miss Ray 
at one end of the long shop — a shop no longer — and looked 
down it silently for a full minute before she spoke. Then: 

“It’s very wonderful,” she said, in her low, pleasant 
voice. “I shouldn’t have dreamed that even you could 
do it. It is effective — it does count. The appeal, even 
at the first glance, is — astonishing.” 

“The question is — ^where has the shop gone?” 

This was ^Miss Lockhart, who was on Mrs. Burns’ 
other side. All three were in semi-evening dress of a 
quiet sort; and the evening hour was just before that set 
for the showing of the posters. Jane Ray had decided 
against making a public thing of her exhibition; she had 
argued that that would mean a large crowd and little 
money. A more exclusive affair, with invitations dis- 
creetly extended, ought to fill just 'comfortably her limi- 
ted space, and bring the dollars she coveted for her Bel- 
gians. 

“It isn’t a shop now — it’s a salon,” declared Mrs. Burns. 
Jane glowed at this — as welf she might. Mrs. Burns, 


8o 


HIGH LIGHTS 


8i 


with her wealth, her experience of the world, her per- 
sonality of exceeding charm, knew whereof she spoke. 
Jane knew well that she could not have found a patroness 
of her exhibition whose influence could help her more than 
that of the wife of Red Pepper Burns. 

“Yes, that’s the word,” Nan agreed. “Miss Ray has 
done wonders. The shop has always been a perfectly 
charming place — as a shop; but to-night it’s a colourful 
spot to solicit not only the eye but the heart. The 
pocket-books and purses will fly open — I’m sure of it. 

And with Doctor Burns to tell us what we must do 

Oh, no doubt but every poster will be sold to-night.” 

“I’m not so sure,” Jane said. “They might be, if the 
prices bid run low. But I don’t want small prices — I want 
big ones — oh, very big! If people will only understand — 
and care.” 

The shop door opened, and R. P. Burns and Tom Lock- 
hart came in together, both in evening dress. Tom’s face 
was exultant. 

“I got him!” he called. “I put out the office lights, 
chloroformed the office nurse, hauled him upstairs, drew 
his bath, and put his clothes upon him — and for a finishing 
touch, to make all tight, disconnected the telephone. 
First occasion ever known where he was present at any 
party before the guests arrived — not to mention being 
properly dressed!” 

Red was laughing. He loomed above the group, every 
shining red hair in place, his eyes sparkling with eagerness 
for the fray. Not in a long time had he had a part to play, 
outside his profession, which suited him so well. Himself 
war mad from the beginning, impatient a thousand times 
over at the apathy of his fellow-citizens under the con- 
stantly growing needs and demands of the world struggle. 


82 


RED AND BLACK 


he was welcoming the chance to try his hand and voice 
at warming the cold hearts, firing the imaginations, and 
reaching the pocket-books thus far mostly shoved deep 
down in the prosperous pockets. To be here to-night he 
had worked like a fiend all day to cover his lists of calls, 
to tie up every possible foreseen demand. At the last 
moment he had cut half a dozen strings which threatened 
to bind him, instructed his office to take no calls for him 
for the coming three hours, and had fled away with Tom, 
determined for once to do his duty as he saw it, and not as 
any persistent patient might see it. 

‘‘Jolly, but this is a stunning show!” he commented, 
gazing round him. “What lighting! Why, you must 
have run wires everywhere, Jane! That fellow in blue 
on the horse, at the far end, looks as if he were galloping 
straight out at us. You must have been on a hanging 
committee at some art gallery some time or other.” 

“Never. And Mr. Black is responsible for the first 
inspiration about the lighting. He has taken such an 
interest. Did you know he got all these Raemakers car- 
toons down at the end for me? They just came to-day — 
he had to wire and wire to have them here in time. They’re 
so splendid — and so terrible — Tve put them all by them- 
selves.” 

Red strode down the room. Nobody joined him while 
he stared with intense concentration at the merciless ar- 
raignment of a merciless foe which was in each Raemakers 
stroke. He came back with a fresh fire in his eye. 

“What can I say that will sell those? People will turn 
away in holy horror, and say the Dutchman lies. He 
hasn’t told half the truth — it can’t be told. I want that 
one last on the line myself. I can’t hang it, but I can put 
it away — a^id get it out, now and then, when my pity 


HIGH LIGHTS 


83 


slackens. Oh, Lord — how long! Two years and more 
those people have been bleeding, and still we stand on the 
outside and look on, like gamins at a curbstone fight! 
Shame on us!” And Red ran his hand through his thick, 
coppery locks again and again, till they stood on end 
above his frowning brows. 

‘'Hush, dear! Here come the first people — and you are 
one of the receiving hosts. You mustn’t look so savage. 
Smooth down your hair — and smile again!” His wife 
spoke warningly. 

“All right — ril try. Where’s the minister.? I thought 
he was going to stand by to-night? He has a better grip 
on his feelings than I have. He keeps his hair where it 
belongs. I’m too Irish for that.” 

“I’m here.” And Black came up to shake hands, 
ahead of the guests who were alighting from a big car out- 
side. “I was after just one more poster — and got it out 
of the express office at the last minute. No, I’m not go- 
ing to show it yet. I think it comes later.” 

“Now we’re all six here — I’m so glad,” whispered Nan 
Lockhart. “Do you know, somehow, I was never so 
proud in my life of being one of a receiving group. Noth- 
ing ever seemed so worth while. Mr. Black, it’s fine of 
you to give so much time to this.” 

“Fine! It’s just an escape valve for me. Miss Lock- 
hart. Besides, what could be better worth doing than 
this, just now?” 

“Nothing that I can think of. But it took Jane Ray 
to conceive it. Isn’t she looking beautifully distinguished 
to-night, in that perfectly ripping smoke-blue gown, and 
her hair so shiningly smooth and close?” 

“Ripping?” repeated Black, his eyes following Miss 
Ray as she went forward to welcome her first guests. “ 


84 RED AND BLACK 

very plain — and unobtrusive. I shouldn't have noticed it. 
She does look distinguished, as you say, but it isn’t the 
dress, is it?” 

Nan laughed. ‘‘How that would please her! The 
dress is plain and unobtrusive — and absolutely perfect in 
every line! It makes what Fm wearing look so fussy I 
want to go home and change it! Jane has a genius for 
knowing how to look like a picture. I suppose that’s the 
artist in her. Do you know, I think the people who are 
asked here to-night feel particularly flattered by an invita- 
tion from Jane? Isn’t that quite an achievement — for a 
shopkeeper?” 

“That word doesn’t seem to apply to her, somehow,” 
said Black, and changed the subject rather abruptly. 
Two minutes later he had left Miss Lockhart, to greet 
one of his elderly parishioners, a rich widow who bore 
down upon him in full sail. Nan Lockhart looked 
after him with an amused expression about her well-cut 
mouth. 

“You didn’t like my calling her a shopkeeper. And 
you don’t intend to discuss any girl with me or anybody 
else, do you, Mr. Black ? ” she said to herself. “ All right — be 
discreet, like the saint you are supposed to be — and really 
are, for the most part, I think. But you’re pretty human, 
too. And Fanny Fitch is wearing a frock and hat to- 
night that I think even you will be forced to notice.” 

It w^s not long before she had an opportunity to test the 
truth of this prediction. The room filled rapidly, the 
narrow street outside becoming choked with cars. Among 
the early comers were Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Lockhart 
and Miss Fitch. As Fanny appeared in the ever length- 
ening line of arrivals. Nan found herself waiting with in- 
terest for the moment when she should reach Jane Ray 


HIGH LIGHTS 


and Robert Black, who, as it chanced just then, stood near 
each other. 

No doubt but Miss Fitch was a charmer. Even Nan 
was forced to admit that she had never seen Fanny more 
radiant. As she glanced from Fanny to Jane and back 
again the comparison which occurred to her was that be- 
tween a gray-blue pigeon and a bird of Paradise! And 
yet — there was nothing dull about Jane — and nothing 
flaunting about Fanny. It was not a matter of clothes 
and colour after all, it was an affair of personality. Jane 
was beautifully distinguished in appearance — Nan had 
chosen the right words to describe her — and Fanny was 
exquisitely lovely to look at. And there you were — sim- 
ply nowhere in estimating the two, unless you had some- 
thing more to go by than looks. Nan, with intimate 
knowledge of Fanny Fitch and an acquaintance with 
Jane Ray which offered one of the most interesting attrac- 
tions she had ever felt toward a member of her own sex, 
found herself wondering how any man who should chance 
on this evening to meet them both for the first time might 
succeed in characterizing them, afterward, for the benefit, 
say, of an invalid mother! 

It was great fun, and as good as a play, she reflected, to 
Bee Jane and Fanny meet. If there was the slightest 
touch of condescension in Fanny’s manner as she ap- 
proached her hostess, it had no choice but to disappear 
before Jane’s adorable poise. Nobody could condescend 
to Jane. It wasn’t that she didn’t permit it — it simply 
couldn’t exist in the presence of that straightforward 
young individuality of hers. From the top of her satiny 
smooth, high-held, dark head, to the toe of the smart 
little slipper which matched the blue of her gown, she was 
quietly sure of herself. And beside h^r some of the town’s 


86 


RED AND BLACK 


most aristocratic matrons and maids looked decidedly less 
the aristocrat than Jane! 

Around the edges of the room moved the guests, 
in low-voiced smiling orderliness, scanning the posters, 
large and small, so cunningly displayed, with every art of 
concealed lighting to show them off. The appeal of some 
was only in the flaming patriotism of the vigorous lines 
and brilliant colouring; in others all the cunning of the 
painter’s brush had wrought to produce a restrained yet 
thrilling effect hardly second to that of a finished picture. 
The subjects were taken from everywhere; from the 
trenches, from No Man’s Land, from civilian homes, 
from the cellars of the outcasts and exiles. And as the 
people whom Jane had invited to this strange exhibit 
moved on and on, past one heart-stirring sketch to an- 
other, the smiles on many lips died out, and now and then 
one saw more than a hint of rising tears quickly sup- 
pressed. Those who could look at that showing, un- 
moved, were few. 

And yet, presently when Burns was upon his platform, 
offering his first poster for sale, though it went quickly, 
it was at no high price. Following this, he took the least 
appealing; and so on, in due course, and the bids still ran 
low. Little by little, however, he forced them up — con- 
siderably more by the tell-tale expression upon his face, 
when he was dissatisfied with a bid, than by what he said. 
As an auctioneer. Red had begun his effort a little dis- 
appointingly to those who expected his words, backed 
by his personality, to do great things from the start. The 
explanation he gave to Jane Ray, in a minute’s interval, 
was undoubtedly the true one. 

“ If they were all men, I could bully them into it. Some- 
how, these well-dressed women stifle me. I’m not used 


HIGH LIGHTS 


87 

to facing them, except professionally. What’s the matter ? 
Shall I let go and fire straight, at any risk of offending? 
They ought to be offering five times as much, you know. 
They simply aren’t taking this thing seriously, and I 
don’t know how to make them.” 

“If you can’t make them, I don’t know who could. 
Yes, speak plainly — why not? We ought not to be 
getting tens and twenties for such posters as those last 
three — each one should have brought a hundred at least. 
Try this one next, please.” 

Burns stood straight again. He held up the sheet Jane 
offered him. It was a bit of wonderful colouring, showing 
a group of French peasants staring up at an airplane high 
overhead — the first British flier on his way to the Front. 
The awe, the faith in those watching eyes, was touching. 

“Give me a hundred for this, won’t you?” he called. 
“Start the bid at that, and then send it^ flying. Never 
mind whether you want the poster or not. Some day it 
will be valuable — if not in money, then in sentiment. 
Now, then, who speaks?” 

Nobody spoke. Then: “Oh, come, Doctor,” said one 
rotund gentleman, laughing, “you can’t rob us that way. 
The thing’s a cheap, machine-coloured print — interesting, 
certainly, but no more. I’ll give you ten for it — that’s 
enough. There’s just one poster in the whole show that’s 
worth a hundred dollars — and that’s the man on the 
horse. When you offer that I’ll be prepared to see you.” 

“The man on the horse goes for not a cent under five 
hundred,” declared Burns, fiercely. “Starts at that — 
and ends at seven — eight — nine — a thousand! Mean- 
while ” 

But he couldn’t do it. It was a polite, suburban com- 
pany, no great wealth in it, just comfortably prosperous 


88 


RED AND BLACK 


people, not particularly patriotic as yet. The time was 
to come when they would see things differently, but at 
that period of the Great War they were mostly cold to the 
needs of the sufferers three thousand miles away. They 
saw no reason why Jane Ray should invite them to an 
exclusive showing of her really quite entertaining collec- 
tion, and then expect them to open their pocket-books 
into her lap. Each one intended to buy one poster, of 
course, out of courtesy to Jane, but — the lower priced the 
better. And all the lower-priced ones were sold. The 
bidding went slack, all but died. Burns took out his big 
white handkerchief and wiped his brow, smiling ruefully 
down at Jane, who nodded encouragingly back. But even 
that encouraging nod couldn’t tell Red how to do it. 

Before this distressing stage in the proceedings had been 
reached. Black, with a lightning-like working of the mind, 
had been making plans of his own in case they should be 
needed. He had stood beside Nan Lockhart, at the back 
of the room, his arms folded, his eyes watching closely the 
scene before him. He did not look at all, as he stood 
there, like a man who could take an auctioneer’s place 
and ‘‘get away with it,” as the modern expressive phrase 
goes. In his clerical dress, his dark hair very smooth 
above his clear brow, his eyes intent, his lips unconsciously 
pressed rather firmly together under the influence of his 
anxiety for Burns’ success in the difficult task. Black’s 
appearance suggested rather that of a restrained onlooker 
at a race who watches a favourite jockey, than that of one 
who longs to leap into the saddle and dash round the 
course himself, to win the race. But this was precisely 
what he was aching to do. 

Deeply as he admired the clever surgeon, much as he 
hoped for the friendship of the highly intelligent man, 


HIGH LIGHTS 89 

he was not long in finding out that Red had not been 
built for a persuader in public places. If the red-headed 
doctor had been confronted with a desperate case of 
emergency surgery, he could have flung off his coat, rolled 
up his sleeves, commandeered an amateur nurse for an 
assistant, and achieved a victory as brilliant as it was 
spectacular. Doubtless, Black reflected, if it had been a 
matter of partisan politics, and an enemy to the good of the 
state had met Red in open debate, the doctor could have 
downed him in three rounds by sheer force of clean-cut 
argument and an arm thrown high in convincing gesture. 
But — given a roomful of well-to-do people, not overmuch 
interested in Belgian orphans, and a man trying to sell 
them something they didn’t want for more than they had 
any idea of paying for it — well — Red simply couldn’t do it, 
that was all. And Miss Ray, in picking him out for the 
job on account of his popularity and his well-known fear- 
lessness in telling people what they must do — Miss Ray 
had simply missed it, that was all. It was an error in 
judgment, and nobody was seeing that more clearly than 
Jane herself, as Black discovered by each glance at her. 

She was standing at Red’s elbow, handing him up 
posters one by one, and giving the buyer a charming 
glance of gratitude for each purchase as she moved for- 
ward to hand the poster spoken for. But her usually 
warm colour had receded a little, her lips, between the 
smiles, seemed a trifle set, and a peculiar sense of her 
disappointment reached across the room and impressed 
itself upon Black as definitely as if she had signalled to 
him. Just once he caught her eyes, as if in search of his,, 
and he found himself giving her back a look of sympathy 
and understanding. He was longing to come to her aid. 
Would it be possible, in any way, to do that? He was ac- 


RED AND BLACK 


90 

customed to facing people, in the mass, as Red was not, 
and accustomed to handling them, to reading from their 
faces what would influence them; in plain words, to being 
master of them, and leading them whither they would not 
voluntarily go. Would the moment conceivably come when 
he could step into the breach and, without offending Red 
or seeming presumptuous, take his place? 

At least he could be prepared. And as his mind worked, 
led by Red’s very mistakes into seeing what might offset 
them, a suggestion suddenly shaped itself. Instantly he 
acted upon it. He beckoned Tom Lockhart, took him 
quietly aside into the half-lighted rear shop where the big 
antique pieces removed from the larger room to make space 
crowded one another unmercifully, and spoke under his 
breath: 

‘‘Tom, you have more nerve than any fellow I know. 
Around the corner, on Seventh Street, at the Du Bois’s, 
there’s a Belgian baby — came to-day. Please go and 
ask them for it, will you? — and hurry back. Tell them 
to pick it out of the cradle just as it is, wrap a shawl around 
it, and let j’^ou bring it here. They’re French — they’ll 
understand — I was there to-day. Quick!” 

With a smothered whoop Tom was off, and Black 
returned to the larger room, remaining, however, near the 
door of the back shop. Ten minutes later an eager whisper 
through a crack of that door summoned him and he slipped 
out to find Tom gingerly holding a bundle from one end 
of which protruded a dark little head. 

“Here he is — poor little cuss! He’s about the most 
whipped looking specimen I ever saw. Think he’ll sell a 
poster? He’s sold one already — blamed if he hasn’t — at 
the best price Tommy Boy can afford.” 

“Keep him quiet here for a bit, can you, Tom? I’ll 


HIGH LIGHTS 91 

come for him when I think his chance is ripe. Will he 
keep still?” 

‘‘Too used to shifting for himself not to keep still, I 
guess.” Tom gazed pityingly into the thin little face 
with its big eyes regarding him steadily in the dim light 
of the outer room. “All right, Til keep him quiet. But 
don’t hold off the crisis too long. R. P.’s about at the 
end of his wind. First time in my life I ever saw Doctor 
in a corner, but he’s sure in one now.” 

“He’s done nobly; we just aren’t educated up to the 
idea yet, that’s all. Baby may not help out, but we’ll 
try.” 

. Black went back. Red turned and gave him a look 
as he came in which said, “I wish I were about a million 
miles away from here. How in thunder do you do it?” 
As if the thought were father to the demand he suddenly 
beckoned and spoke: 

“Mr. Black, suppose you come up here and tell us about 
these last — and best — posters. My oratory has run out. 
I know you have one poster of your own you haven’t 
shown — isn’t it time for that now?” 

Black smiled up at him — a friendly smile which an- 
swered: “I’d like nothing better than to help you out, 
old fellow!” But aloud he said: “Rather a telling one 
has just been brought in by Mr. Thomas Lockhart. With 
your permission I’ll be glad to show it to everybody.” 

And with that he was out of the room and back again, 
and the baby — out of its wrappings, its thin, tiny frame, 
pinched face and claw-like hands showing with a dumb 
eloquence — ^was held cosily in the tall minister’s left arm, 
and his right hand was gently smoothing back the curly 
black locks from the wistful little brow. He took one step 
upon the platform Red was about to vacate, and looked 


92 RED AND BLACK 

down into the upturned faces. “Don’t go yet, please, 
Doctor,” he requested, in the other’s ear. Reluctantly 
Burns waited, scanning the baby. 

“There isn’t anything I can say, ladies and gentlemen,” 
Black began, very quietly, and looking back into the small 
face as he went on. “It’s all said by this little chap. 
He’s just been brought over to this country, with scores 
more, by the Committee for Belgian Relief. A kind- 
hearted French family near by have offered to care for him 
until a home can be found. The father of this family was 
at the pier when the ship came in, saw this baby, and 
brought him home with him. It is for hundreds of such 
little forlorn creatures as he that Miss Ray wants to raise 
the largest sum we are able to give her. We can’t con- 
ceive how much money is needed, but we can’t possibly 
make the amount too large.” 

The absolute simplicity of this little speech — for this 
was all he said — coupled with the touching appeal of the 
baby in his arms, was what did it; Mrs. Burns and Nan 
and Jane all said so afterward. With the instinct for the 
right course at the right moment which is the peculiar gift 
of the public speaker. Black divined, at the instant that he 
came upon the platform, that the fewer his words the 
more loudly would the tiny, silent figure do its own solicit- 
ing. And so it proved. 

“Please show the Belgian posters. Doctor Burns,’* 
Black suggested, and Red, taking them from Jane’s hands, 
held them up one by one without comment. And one by 
one they were bid off, while Black stood and held the baby 
and looked on, his eyes eloquent of his interest. Bid off 
at sums which ranged higher and higher, as the company, 
now as" ardent' iny the 'cause of the living, breathing baby 
before them as they had been apathetic in that of his 


HIGH LIGHTS 


93 

small compatriots across the sea of whom they had only 
heard, vied with each other to prove that they could be 
generous when they really saw the reason why. 

‘T’d certainly like a picture of Mr. Black and that baby 
at this minute,” murmured Fanny Fitch in the ear of Nan 
Lockhart, as she returned from a trip to the front of the 
room, where she had recklessly emptied a gold mesh-bag 
to buy that for which she did not care at all. She had 
looked up into Robert Black’s face as she stood below him, 
and had received one of those strictly impartial smiles 
which he was now bestowing upon everybody who asked 
for them; and she had come away thoroughly determined 
to secure for herself, before much more time had passed, 
a smile which should be purely personal. 

“He does look dear with the baby,” admitted Nan, 
heartily. “He holds him as if he had held babies all his 
life. Oh, it’s splendid, the way things are going now. 
How was he inspired to get that child?” 

“Eye for the dramatic, my dear,” suggested her friend. 
“All successful ministers have it. The unsuccessful ones 
lack it, and go around wondering why their schemes fail. 
It’s perfectly legitimate — and it makes them much more 
interesting. The Reverend Robert looks as innocent as 
the child in his arms, but he’s really a born actor.” 

“Fanny Fitch! How ridiculous!” 

“If he weren’t he would have rushed up there with the 
baby and harangued us for fifteen minutes about the needs 
of the Belgians. But he has the dramatic sense just to 
stand there looking like a young father angel, with those 
dark brows of his bent on the poor child, and we fall for 
him like the idiots we are — as he knew we would. I never 
dreamed of spending that last ten dollars. I didn’t spend 
it for the Belgians at all. I spent it for Robert Black!” 


RED AND BLACK 


94 

“Fm glad you’re frank enough to admit it.” 

“What’s the use in trying to conceal anything from you. 
Sharp Eyes?” And Miss Fitch returned to her occupa- 
tion of observing the events now transpiring up in front, 
with a pair of lustrous eyes which missed no detail. 

Jane’s receptacle for the money handed her was nearly 
full now. It was a beautiful big bowl of Sheffield plate, 
one of the best in her collection, and it had called forth 
much admiring comment. Red sold his last poster — not 
all were for sale. This last one was the great “man on 
the horse,” galloping with sword upraised and mouth 
shouting — the most vivid and striking of all, though tto 
the eye of the connoisseur worth far less than some of 
quieter and more subtle suggestion. It was promptly 
bid in by the rotund gentleman who had challenged Red 
half an hour before, and he named so high a figure that 
he had no contestants. He received his purchase with a 
large gesture of triumph and pleasure with himself, and 
Jane, accepting his check, written with a flourish, gave 
him the expression of gratitude he had coveted. 

She took the baby from Black, then, saying: “Your 
poster — hasn’t the time come? Won’t you show it your- 
self, please?” 

“I want to, if I may. But it’s not for sale.” 

“Oh! Then we have all we are to get to-night.” 

“ Fm not sure. Yes — I think we have all we are to get — 
to-night. But — perhaps we have something to give.” 

She didn’t understand — how should she ? She watched 
him go back to the little platform, its boards covered with 
a fine rug and its backing a piece of valuable French tapes- 
try above which hung the French and Belgian flags. 
Jane had conceived this effective setting for her auctioneer, 
but it was none the less effective for the man who had 


HIGH LIGHTS 


95 

taken Bums’ place. Standing there he slowly unrolled 
the poster, and the people before him ceased their buzzing 
talk to watch, for something in his face told them that 
here was that which they must not miss. 

Ah, but this was an original! How had he procured it.^ 
It was a strip of canvas which Black unrolled and silently 
held up before the hundred pairs of gazing eyes. And as 
they looked, the last whisper gave way to a stillness which 
was its own commentary on and tribute to the story told 
by an artist who was somehow different from the rest. 

The colouring of the picture — it was a poster like the 
others — ^was all rich blues and browns, with a hint of yellow 
and one gleam of white. The background was a dim hud- 
dle of ruins and battle smoke. Close in the foreground were 
two figures — a stalwart British soldier in khaki and steel 
hat supporting a wounded Frenchman in the “horizon 
blue” of the French army, his bare head bandaged and 
drooping upon his chest. These two figures alone were 
infinitely touching, but that which gave the picture its 
thrilling appeal was that at which the Briton, his hand at 
the salute, was gazing over the bent head of his comrade. 
And of that, at the extreme left of the picture, all that 
one saw was a rough wooden post, and upon it, nailed to 
it by the rigid feet, two still, naked limbs. A roadside 
Calvary — or the suggestion of it — that was all one saw. 
But the look in the saluting soldier’s rugged face was one 
of awe — and adoration. 

Black held the canvas for a long minute, his own grave 
face turned toward it. Not even Fanny Fitch, in her 
cynical young heart, could dare to accuse him of “ acting” 
now. The silence over the room was breathless — it was 
the hush which tells its story unmistakably. Before it 
could be broken. Black lowered the canvas. 


RED AND BLACK 


96 

“That’s all,” he said. “It brought it home to me so 
powerfully what is happening ‘over there’ — I just wanted 
you to see it, too. That’s where the gifts you have 
given to-night are going.” 

“Mr. Black — ” It was Mr. Samuel Lockhart, speak-^ 
ing in a low voice from the front — “is that — to be bought V* 

“It is mine, Mr. Lockhart. It is not for sale.” 

“It is wonderful,” said the elder man, with reverence* 

Black rolled the canvas, and crossing the room put it 
out of sight. When he came back a little crowd surrounded 
the Belgian baby, in Jane’s arms. 

The assemblage took its leave with apparent reluctance. 
In the suburban town there had been nothing just like 
this evening in the memory of the oldest present. Those 
who carried posters with them held them rather ostenta- 
tiously; those who had none were explaining, some of 
them, that they had not been able to secure the ones 
they wanted, but that they had been happy to contribute 
something to so worthy a fund. 

“Quite unique, and certainly very delightfully man- 
aged,” one stout matron said to Jane as she extended a 
cordial hand. “You had courage, my dear, to attempt 
this here. You must have raised morn than you could 
have expected.” 

“I haven’t counted it,” Jane answei d. “It’s been a 
happy thing to try to do it — I’m very grateful to you all.” 

When the last had gone, except the five who had been 
her helpers, she sat down with the Sheffield bowl in her 
lap, and Red took his place beside her, to help her count. 
Tom, having run home with the baby, was back again, 
eagerly hanging over Red’s shoulder as he put bills of the 
same denomination together, and sorted silver. The 
other three looked on, eagerly awaiting the result. 


HIGH LIGHTS 


97 

Red announced the sum total — it was a goodly sum, 
running well into the hundreds. He looked up at Black. 

“Three fourths of that came in after you brought up 
that blamed little beggar,” he said. “And the things 
you didn’t say were what turned the trick! By George, 
you taught me a lesson to-night. Speech may be silver, 
but a silence like that of yours sure was golden. I didn’t 
know any man of your profession understood it so well. 
Hanged if I don’t keep my tongue between my teeth, 
after this!” 

A burst of appreciatively skeptical laughter from those 
who knew him answered this. But Black, though he 
smiled too, answered soberly: “There’s a time for every- 
thing. You plowed — and the baby harrowed, that was 
all. The Belgian fund reaps. I know we’re all mighty 
happy about it.” 

When he left, a few minutes later, Jane Ray gave him 
the sort of handshake, with her firm young hand closing 
with his in full reciprocity, which one man gives to an- 
other. 

“I can’t thank you,” she said. “It was wonderfully 
done. But — do you mind telling? — you must have held 
many babies!” 

How Black himself laughed then, his head thrown back, 
his white teeth gleaming. “Being a woman, that’s what 
you get out of it,” he said. “Yes — I’ve held every one 
I could ever get hold of. I like them a bit bigger than 
that — a regular armful. Poor ‘blamed little beggar’ — as 
the Doctor called him! But he’ll be an armful some day. 
We’ll see to that.” 

“You bet we will,” declared Tom, who had been linger- 
ing to get away with Black. “Night, Miss Ray. I’ll be 
around in the morning to help you move things back. 


98 RED AND BLACK 

Don’t you touch a darned thing till I come. Promise! I 
say, aren’t you grateful to me? I borrowed that baby, 
and brought him here, too. The attention I attracted was 
awful. I had about ten dozen street kids with me all 
the way. Maybe that wasn’t just as useful a stunt as 
standing up and saying things, under the Belgian flag — 
eh?” 

She sent him her most adorable look. “Mr. Tom, 
you’re a trump. You have my deepest appreciation — and 
good-night!” 

“I say,” said Tom, a minute later, when they were well 
away, “I call her some girl. She’s — she’s — well, she’s a 
regular fellow — and you know how I mean that, don’t 
you?” 

“Yes,” replied Black, looking fixedly up the street, as if 
he saw there something which interested him very much. 
“I know how you mean that. I think you are — right. 
Tom, would you object to telling me what all those women 
meant about my holding that baby? How on earth did 
I hold it differently from the way any man would hold it?” 

“Young Mrs. Germain told me,” said Tom, chuckling 
with glee, “that you held It in your left arm. They said 
nobody except an old hand would do that. To have your 
right free to do other things — see? I never understood 
about that before. I carried the kid on my right arm.” 

“After this,” declared Robert McPherson Black, firmly, 
“if I ever have occasion to hold an infant in public, I shall 
do it with my right arm!” 


CHAPTER VII 

RATHER A BIG THING 

"DLACK was standing in the vestibule qf a train which 
was bringing him back, at a late hour, from the city 
where he had spent the day at a conference of clergymen. 
He was somewhat weary, for the day had been filled with 
long debate over a certain question which had seemed 
to him vital indeed but not debatable. He had not hesi- 
tated to say so, and had been delayed after the evening 
session was over by men who still wanted to talk it out 
interminably with him. He had missed his trolley and 
had therefore taken the train. 

As the train drew in Black found himself crowded next 
a young man who seemed to be suffering from an excessive 
nervousness. He was tall and thin, rather handsome of 
face, but with eyes so deeply shadowed that they sug- 
gested extreme and recent illness. His manner was so 
shaky, as he went down the steps ahead of Black, and 
he set down his bag upon the platform with such a ges- 
ture of supreme fatigue, that Black stopped to find out if 
he were indeed ill, and if he needed help. At the same 
moment the stranger looked round at him, and put a 
question in a quick, breathless voice which indicated both 
anxiety and difficulty at self-control. 

“Can you tell me,” he jerked out, “where Miss Ray’s 
shop is — antique shop — ^Jane Ray.? I ought to know — 
forgotten the street.” 


99 


lOO 


RED AND BLACK 

Black hesitated. Send this unknown and unnatural 
young man to Jane at this late hour? He looked both 
dissipated and irresponsible, and Black thought he caught 
the odour of alcohol upon his breath. 

‘‘It’s late. The shop will be closed,” Black suggested. 
“Hadn’t you better go to a hotel to-night, and look it up 
in the morning?” 

The stranger frowned, and answered irritably — almost 
angrily : 

“I should say not. Miss Ray’s my sister. Will you 
tell me where the shop is, or have I got to find somebody 
who will?” 

Black made a quick decision. “I’ll show you the way. 
It’s not far out of my course.” 

His eyes searched the stranger’s face, to find there con- 
firmation of the statement which otherwise he would not 
have been inclined to believe. The resemblance, taking 
into account the difference between Jane’s look of vital- 
ity and radiant energy, and this young man’s whole as- 
pect of broken health and overwrought nerves, was very 
apparent. And as the stranger looked down the platform, 
and his profile was presented to Black’s scrutiny, he saw 
that the same definite outlines of beauty and distinction 
were there, not to be mistaken. On this basis he could 
have no hesitation in guiding the markedly feeble foot- 
steps to her door, though he was wondering, rather anx- 
iously, just what his arrival, evidently unexpected by her, 
would mean to her. Black had never heard anybody 
mention her having a brother — he had understood she 
was quite alone in the world. 

The two set out down the street. The young 
man walked so falterlngly that after a minute Black 
took his well-worn leather bag away from him, sayii\ 


RATHER A BIG THING loi 

pleasantly: ‘‘Let me carry it. You’re not quite fit, I’m 
sure.” 

The other glowered. “Not fit! What do you mean 
by that? I’m fit enough — I’m just worn out, that’s all. 
Overwork — illness — nerves — I’m all in. But if you mean 
to imply ” 

“I don’t mean to imply anything, Mr. Ray — if that is 
your name. I can see you have been ill. Let me put 
my hand under your arm, won’t you? I’d call a cab. 
if there were any to be had — I’m afraid there aren’t.” 

“Don’t want a cab — can walk. Walk faster, that’s all. 
I’m liable to go to pieces pretty soon — haven’t eaten a 
mouthful to-day — couldn’t look at it. These confounded 
nerves ” 

There was no doubt but his nerves were confounded, and 
badly, at that. As they walked the few squares necessary 
to get to Jane’s little street, Black felt his companion be- 
coming more and more desperately shaken in body and 
mind. Several times he said something which struck 
Black as all but irrational. More than once he would 
have wavered far away from the straight course if Black’s 
arm had not held him steady. A policeman looked sharply 
at the pair as they passed under the light at a corner, and 
Black was aware that but one inference was likely — one 
he was not at all sure was untrue. 

The shop was dark when they reached it, and Black 
rang the bell. Just as a light appeared, and he saw 
Jane coming through from her rooms in the rear, the 
stranger suddenly sank against Black’s shoulder, and he 
was forced to drop the bag and hold him supported in 
both arms. So when Jane opened the door, it was to this 
singular and somewhat startling apparition. 

“Don’t be frightened, Miss Ray,” said Black’s quietly 


102 


RED AND BLACK 


assured voice. ^‘He’s only faint, I think. This Is — youf 
brother? He’s been ill, and wasn’t quite strong enough 
to make the journey. We’ll get him lying down as fast 
as we can.” 

“Oh, Cary!” Jane was out of the door In an Instant, 
and her strong young arm was around her brother from 
the opposite side. “Can you walk, dear?” 

He hardly had to walk, so nearly did they carry him. 
They had him through the shop and into the little living 
room In no time at all, and Jane had run for a stimulant. 
The glass she held to his lips and the prostrate position 
revived him quickly. He made a wry face at the tumbler 
she had set down upon a table. 

“Can’t you do better than that?” he questioned, weakly, 
“For God’s sake give me the real thing — I need It. I’m 
dying for It — ^yes, dying literally. If you want to know.” 

Jane shook her head. “No, dear — I haven’t any — and 
I’m sure you don’t need It. I’ll make you some strong 
tea. Oh, I’m so glad you came, Cary!” 

The young man seemed to try to smile — but the smile 
looked more like tears. He held up a shaking hand. 

“Nerves — ^Jane — nerves. I’m all in — I’m a wreck. 

I’m ” His look wavered around at Black, who stood 

above and behind him. “We’ll excuse you, sir,” he said, 
with an effort at dignity. “I’m very much obliged to 
you — and now — please go!” 

Jane looked up at Black with a face Into which the quick 
and lovely colour poured in a flood. “My brother isn’t 
himself,” she said under her breath. “ Do forgive him. I’m 
so grateful to you. I can get on with him nicely now.” 

“I can surely be of service to you yet. Miss Ray,” 
Black said with decision. “Your brother needs care, and 
I can help you make him comfortable.” 


RATHER A BIG THING 103 

She shook her he'ad. ‘‘I can do all he needs/’ she said, 
‘‘and it’s late. I can’t ” 

And then Cary Ray decided things for himself by sitting 
up and pointing with a shaking finger and a voice of fright 
toward a shadowy corner. “What’s that!” he whispered. 
“What’s that? You haven’t got ’em here, too, have you? 
I thought you wouldn’t have ’em — not you !'* 

There was nothing in the comer. Black laid young Ray 
gently but firmly down upon the couch again. “No, 
you’re mistaken,” he said quietly. “We haven’t got 
them here — and we’re not going to have them. Trust me 
for that — I know all about it.” 

Across the dark head, again fallen weakly upon the 
couch pillow. Black’s eyes met Jane’s. “Please let me 
stay awhile?” he urged. 

She knew then that he knew, and that it was of no use 
to try^to hide the pitiful, shameful thing from him. She 
nodded and turned away, and he saw her clench one hand 
tight as she went to Cary’s bag and opened it. He saw 
her search through the bag, and take from it something 
which he did not see, because she went out of the room 
with it. She was gone some time. While she was away, 
he occupied himself with keeping Cary’s attention from 
concentrating on that corner of which his suspicions be- 
came now and then acute. 

When she returned, her brother was talking fast and 
disconnectedly. 

“I haven’t slept — ”, he was saying, in a tone that was 
half a wail — “I haven’t slept for a week — haven’t had a 
decent night’s sleep in months. I How can you ex- 

pect — I tell you a fellow can’t keep going — ^work’s all 
gone to pot ” 

Jane came close to him. “You shall stay here and rest 


RED AND BLACK 


104 

up, Cary,” she said gently, with her hand on his hot head. 
“And ril feed you wonderfully and get you strong again. 
Could you take just a little something now? — A glass of 
milk — a tiny sandwich ” 

He shook his head, with a gesture of distaste. “Don\ 
say food to me — don’t bring any in my sight. There’s 
just one thing I want — and I know you won’t give it to 
me. Jane — ” he caught at her hand — “it would make me 
sleep, and God knows I need that — I shall die without it. 
I — that thing in the corner — oh, I didn’t think it would 
track me here ” 

“It isn’t here. Forget it!” Black spoke sternly. 
“You’re going to bed, and to sleep — I’m going to see to 
that. Miss Ray — ^you’ll let me get your brother into his 
bed, won’t you? Once there. I’ll put him to sleep — I 
know I can — and that’s what he needs more than any^ 
thing.” 

“I’ll go and make his room ready,” said Jane Ray. 
She had to yield. She knew Cary needed a man’s 
hand, a man’s will. Strong and resourceful though she 
was, she understood that at this pass no woman could 
control the disordered nerves as a man could. She could 
only be thankful that she had this man at her service at 
this hour, though perhaps he was the last man she would 
have picked out, or have been willing to have know of her 
unhappy situation. But he knew it now, and somehow, 
as her eyes met his, she could not be quite sorry, after all, 
that it was he who was to help her. At least, whether he 
could deal with Cary or not, she could be absolutely sure 
that she could trust him. And this was not because of his 
profession — rather, to Jane, it was in spite of it. 

So, presently. Black found himself putting Cary Ray 
to bed — in a room he didn’t in the least deserve to have, 


RATHER A BIG THING 105 

for It was unquestionably Jane’s own. Every detail of its 
furnishing told him that, though he did not allow himself 
to study it much from this point of view. It was rather a 
large room, and as simply outfitted as could be imagined, 
and yet somehow its whole aspect gave the impression 
of character and charm. And Black had never in his life 
hated to see a man installed in a place which didn’t belong 
to him as he hated to see Cary Ray made comfortable 
in this exquisitely chaste room of Jane’s. Yet he couldn’t 
very well protest. He knew as well as if he had been told 
that it was the only room of adequate size and comfort 
which she had to put at her brother’s service, and that, 
since he was ill and in need, she wouldn’t dream of tucking 
him up on a couch somewhere as a substitute. For one 
bad moment Black was astonished to discover that he was 
longing to pitch this dissipated young man out of the 
house, and tell his sister to keep her white sheets clean 
from his contaminated body. 

But then, of course, he settled to his task, sternly putting 
such thoughts away from him. Having got Cary stretched 
between those same sheets, the lights extinguished — except 
that from an amber-shaded reading light beside the bed — 
instead of taking a chair he sat down on the foot of the bed 
in a friendly sort of way, and remarked in the most matter- 
of-fact tone in the world — “This reminds me of a night I 

spent once down in Virginia ” And from that he 

was off, by degrees, and not at all as if he had set himself 
to entertain his patient, into a recital that presently cap- 
tured Cary’s hitherto fitful attention and held it until 
the sense of strangeness in the whole situation had some- 
what gone by for the invalid — if not for the nurse. 

The night was not spent, however, in telling stories. 
It is true that Cary himself told one or two — and lurid 


io6 


RED AND BLACK 


tales they were, with more than a suspicion of nightmare 
in them, the nightmare of drugs or of a disordered brain. 
There were intervals — though few of them — when the 
young man sank Into a brief sleep, as if from profound 
exhaustion, but he invariably awoke with a start and a 
cry to a condition which became, as the hours went on, 
more and more difficult to control. Black did succeed 
in controlling it, by sheer force of will; he seemed to have 
a peculiar power to do this. His hand upon Cary’s, his 
voice in his ear, and time and again the strained nerves 
and muscles would relax, and the crisis would pass. But 
more than once, so wild was the almost delirium of the 
sufferer, that it took all Black’s physical strength to keep 
command. 

Jane was there only a part of the time. It was during 
the periods of repose and half slumber that she would 
slip noiselessly into the room, stand watching her brother 
silently, or sit down upon the foot of the bed opposite 
Black, to look at the thin face on the pillow with her un- 
happy heart in her eyes. Black had never seen much of 
Jane’s heart before; he couldn’t help seeing something of 
it now. It was beyond his power to refrain, now and then, 
as the two sat in the hush of the night, so strangely thrown 
together in a situation which neither could ever have 
foreseen, from looking across at Jane’s clear-cut profile 
in the subdued light, and studying it as if he had never 
seen it before. His pity for her grew as the hours went 
by, and with his pity a tenderness grew also, until, quite 
suddenly, he was startled by a consciousness that he 
wanted to go around to her and take her hands in his and 
tell her — that he would stand by her to the last limit of his 
power. 

On one of her trips into the room, when Cary happened 


RATHER A BIG THING 107 

to be quiet for a little, Jane whispered to Black that she 
would take his place and he must go downstairs and eat 
the lunch she had prepared for him. When he told her 
that he didn’t need it she only pointed, quite imperiously, 
to the door, and he obediently left the room and went 
to do her bidding. It was as he was finishing the delicious 
viands he found on the table in the room below that his 
ear, alert for any signs of trouble above, caught the sin- 
ister sound he was listening for. He ran up, three steps at 
a time, to find Jane struggling in the grip of her half- 
crazed brother, who was demanding in language so profane 
that it seemed to burn the air, the instant production of 
the one thing in the world he wanted. 

** You’ve got it — you’re hiding it — you little fool! Do 

you want to see me dead before morning — you ” 

Then came the oaths, this time but half uttered before a 
strong, smothering hand descended upon the twisting 
mouth, and a stern voice said commandingly: “Not an- 
other word like that, Ray, or I’ll choke you till you’re 
still I ” At the same moment a j erk of Black’s head toward 
the door and his fiery glance at Jane told her that he 
wanted her out of the room and out of hearing as fast as 
she could get away. 

It was a long tussle this time, but it was over at last, and 
once more, worn out by the violence of his own efforts, 
Cary lay quiet for a little. Confident that though not 
asleep he would not at once find strength to fight again. 
Black stole out of the room. In the narrow hall outside 
he found Jane, sitting on the top stair, her head buried in 
her arms. 

Thus far he had known Jane only as a finely practical 
young business woman, as independent as she was capable. 
He had seen that adorable head of hers, with its sm<^oth 


io8 RED AND BLACK 

crown of chestnut hair, always held high, with a suggestion 
of indomitable courage. Now — it looked as if it had 
been brought low — incredibly low. She had long before 
exchanged the dress in which she had spent the day in 
the shop for a plain white skirt and blouse such as nurses 
wear, and in this costume she looked much younger and 
Aiore girlish than in the more conventional dress. Her 
white-shod feet were crossed as a girl crosses them; and 
altogether, in the dim light from the half-open door, she 
seemed to Black more like Cary’s dependent young sister 
than one older than himself to whom he had come as to a 
refuge. He didn’t know, as yet, that after all it was Cary 
who was the older. 

At the sound of the light footstep, however, Jane in- 
stantly lifted her head, and then rose quickly to her feet, 
and he saw her smile — an undoubtedly forced little smile, 
but full of pluck. 

You must be desperately tired,” she whispered. But 
I don’t know what I should have done without you this 
night.” 

‘‘You couldn’t have done without me. I can’t tell you 
how glad I am to be here. And I’m not half as tired as 
you are. Won’t you go now and lie down? You can’t 
do a bit of good by staying on guard here, and you’ll need 
your strength to-morrow. This isn’t going to be a short 
siege. I’m afraid.” 

“I know it’s not. But I’ve been through it all before. 
I shall call Doctor Burns to-morrow. I tried to to-night, 
so I could release you, but he was away for the night. 
And — I didn’t want to call anybody else. Nobody else — 
here — knows, and — I can’t have them know.” 

“Nobody knows you have a brother?” 

“Oh, they’ve seen Cary — but only when he was — him- 


RATHER A BIG THING 


109 

self. He IS — Cary Is a genius, Mr. Black; he just'has — the 
defects of his temperament. He — I can show you ” 

And then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, the tears 
leaped Into her eyes. Like a small boy, abashed at having 
shown emotion, she threw back her head, smiling again, 
and drawing the back of her hand across the tell-tale eyes. 
“Oh, Fm ashamed of myself,” she breathed. “Believe 
me, Fm not so weak as this looks.” 

“You’re not In the least weak. And It’s three o’clock 
In the morning, the hour when things take hold. See 

here ” And he looked her straight in the eyes. 

“Jane Ray,” he said, not too gently, but as a man might 
say it to a man, though he spoke low, on account of that 
open door — “I want you to know that, whatever comes. 
I’ll see you through. I won’t add — ‘if you’ll let me’ — 
for you’re going to let me. You can’t help It — after to- 
night.” And he held out his hand. “Shall we make a 
pledge of it?” he added, smiling gravely. 

She looked straight back at him. “You can’t — see me 
through,” she said. “You — I’ve no claim on you. You 
have your church ” 

“I have. Is that a reason why I can’t stand by you? 
If it is — it’s not the church I gave myself to. And — I 
think you need another brother. Fm sure Cary does.” 
His hand was waiting. He looked down at it. “Are 
you going to make me take It back?” he asked. “That 
would — feel very strange. I didn’t offer it — to take 
back.” 

She put her own Into It then. He gave It a long, strong 
clasp and let It go. Without looking at him she turned 
and ran downstairs, and he went back Into the room where 
Cary was beginning to stir restlessly again. 

He was conscious, in every fibre, that something had 


no 


RED AND BLACK 

happened to him. He had not had the least idea, when 
he had begun his vigils that night, that before morn- 
ing he should be thrilled as he never had been thrilled 
before, by a simple handclasp, and a few spoken words, 
offering only what he had offered many a man or woman in 
trouble before now, his sympathy and help. But some- 
how — this had been different. He was acutely aware that 
the wish to see Jane Ray through whatever difficulties 
and problems might lie before her in connection with this 
brother of hers was a mighty different sort of wish from 
any that he had experienced before. And the fact that 
she had tacitly accepted his help — proud Jane — for he 
knew she was proud — gave him a satisfaction out of all 
proportion to any ordinary significance attached to so 
obvious and natural a suggestion. There was now a 
bond between them — that was the thing that took hold 
of him; a bond which made possible — ^well, what did it 
make possible? What did he want it to make possible? 
He didn’t try to go into that. One thing was sure : he had, 
by an accident, come into her life in a way he had never 
dreamed of, and once in — he wanted to stay. This touch 
of intimate comradeship had been something new in his 
experience. It might never happen again; certainly he 
could not continue to take care of Cary Ray through 
nights such as this one had been. Doubtless Doctor 
Burns, once called, would take care of that; Black knew 
that under the proper treatment the following night might 
be one of comparative calm. But he could come to see 
him often; could cultivate his friendship — gain as much 
influence over him as possible. And if others found out 
about it, criticized him for giving time and thought to 
people outside his parish — well — they might. Black’s 
decision on this head was one which brooked no interfer* 


Ill 


RATHER A BIG THING 

ence. Where he could help he would help, in his parish or 
out of it. . . . 

It was at five o’clock in the morning that he fell asleep. 
He had not meant to go to sleep, and had been caught 
unawares. For an hour Cary had been quiet. Black, 
sitting on the edge of his bed, had found a new way to 
keep hold of his man — and that was by keeping hold of 
him literally. In a moment of desperation he had seized 
the thin, restless fingers and forced them to remain 
still in his own. The firm contact had produced a remark- 
able effect. After a little Cary’s hand had laid hold of 
Black’s and clung to it, while the invalid himself had sunk 
almost immediately away into something more resembling 
real slumber than anything in the past night. Finding 
this expedient so successful Black had allowed it to con- 
tinue, for each time he tried to release himself Cary took 
a fresh grip, like a child who will not let go his hold upon 
his mother, even in unconsciousness. Finally, Black had 
made himself as comfortable as he could by slipping down 
upon the floor, where he could rest his head upon the bed 
without withdrawing his hand. And in this posture, one 
eloquent of his own fatigue from the long vigil, he went 
soundly to sleep. 

So when, with the approach of daylight, Jane came in 
to tell her assistant that he must go home now, while the 
streets were empty of observant eyes, she found what she 
had not expected. She stood looking at the two figures 
the one stretched so comfortably in the bed, the other 
propped in so strained an attitude outside of it. As she 
looked something very womanly and beautiful came into 
her eyes. 

‘Ts it possible — ” this was her thought — ‘That you 
have done this — for me ? I didn’t know men of your 


II2 


RED AND BLACK 


profession ever did things like this. But if I had known 
any of them ever did, I should have known it would be 
you!” 

He looked like a tall and fine-featured boy as he slept 
in his twisted position, did Robert McPherson Black. 
He had taken off his coat while he wrestled with Cary, 
and the white shirt-sleeves rolled to the elbows, showing 
a sinewy forearm, added to the boyish effect. Suddenly 
Jane’s eyes caught sight of something on one bare arm 
which made her stoop lower, and then flush with chagrin. 
It was the unmistakable mark upon the fair flesh of grip- 
ping fingers with nails which had torn — already turning 
dark, as such deep bruises do. It was a little thing 
enough — Jane knew already how her new friend would 
make light of it if she mentioned it — and yet somehow it was 
rather a big thing, too. It gave emphasis to the service 
he had done her; how could she have dealt, alone, with 
wild brutality like that? 

Then, as she looked, Cary roused, turned, opened his 
eyes, withdrew his hand with a jerk, and Black woke also. 
And Cary was sane again, and very weak, and spoke 
querulously: 

“What the devil ” he began. “Who are you — and 

what are you doing here?” Then, to Jane, — “Is this a 
cheap lodging house, and do you take in every vagrant 
that comes along?” 

“I took you in, dear,” said Jane, quietly. “And Mr. 
Black has stayed by you all night. He must be very 
tired.” 

Black laughed. “Fve had quite a sleep, anyhow,” he 
said, attempting with considerable difiiculty to get upon 
his feet. “Certain areas seem to have been more asleep 
than others, though. My arm — ” and he began to pinch 


RATHER A BIG THING 113 

and pound It — “looks to be all here, but it feels rather ab- 
sent.” It was absent indeed, and hanging by his side, quite 
numb. 

Cary’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean — ^why, you’re the 
chap that — that ” His weak voice took on a tension. 

“Never mind about the identification. I’m glad you’re 
feeling better this morning.” 

“I don’t feel better. I feel like the devil. But I — I’m 
certainly obliged to you. I — have you been here all — 
night?” 

“Of course. Oh, thank you. Miss Ray — it’ll come back 
in a minute,” for Jane had come up and was applying a 
vigorous massage with her own hands to the inert arm. 

“Well, I’ll be ” but Cary left the exclamation un- 

finished, and began another. “ I say — I’m not worth it ! ” he 
groaned, and buried his head in the crumpled white pillow. 

Downstairs, presently. Black, ready to go, spoke authori- 
tatively. “Please promise me you will call the Doctor 
early.” 

“I will,” Jane agreed. “He has seen Cary before. If 
I could only have had him last night, and spared you — 

I shouldn’t feel so guilty this morning. Why ” and 

at this moment, for the first time, a recognition came to 
her. It left her a little stunned. “Mr. Black,” she said, 
unhappily, “I’m just realizing what day this is. It’s ” 

“Yes, it’s Sunday,” admitted Black, smiling, “And 
none the worse for that, is it?” 

“But — you have to preach — and you’ve been up all 
night!” 

“I suppose it’s because I’m a Scot, but — I’ve seldom 
left my sermons till Saturday and Sunday to prepare. 
I’m all armed and equipped. Miss Ray — you’ve nothing 
to regret.” 


RED AND BLACK 


114 

“But you haven’t slept — you’re frightfully tired ” 

“Do I look as haggard as that? If I do, it’s only be- 
cause I need a clean shave. Come — if you weren’t tied 
up I’d challenge you to go to church and see if I can’t hit 
from the shoulder, in spite of my lusty right arm’s getting 
numb for ten minutes in your service. Good-by, for the 
present. Miss Ray. I shall call you up, later, to learn if 
the Doctor’s been here. And I shall — make friends with 
your brother the very best I know how.” 

He looked straight down into her uplifted eyes as he 
shook hands — ^with no lingering or extra pressure this 
time, just the hard, comradely grasp it was his nature to 
give. Then he was gone, out into the early morning twi- 
light, without a glance to right or left to see if any saw him 

go* 

An hour later Red came in, looked the situation over, 
and commented brusquely: 

“You must have had a — an Inferno — of a night with 
him.” 

“I didn’t — because I wasn’t alone. Mr. Black stayed 
all night and took care of him.” 

“What?” The quick question spoke incredulity. Red 
stared at her. 

“He brought Cary from the station, and then stayed — 
because — he thought he was needed. I don’t know quite 
what I should have done without him.” 

Red whistled. “You bet you don’t. Well, well — the 
minister certainly is game. Didn’t worry about what 
some old lady of the parish might think, eh?” 

Jane drew herself up. “You don’t mean that, Doctor 
Burns.” 

He laughed. “No, I don’t mean that. There was 
every reason why he should ignore any such possibility — I 


RATHER A BIG THING 115 

understand the situation exactly. But I think it was 
rather game of him, just the same. A case like Caryls 
isn’t exactly a joke to take care of, and the average out- 
sider gets out from under — and sends flowers to show his 
sympathy — or a bottle of whisky, according to his lights. 
Well — to go back to this precious brother of yours ” 

“That is the right adjective,” said Jane Ray, steadily. 
“You know perfectly well. Doctor Burns, he’s all I have.” 

“Yes, I know.” He returned the look. “And I’ll do 
my best to put him on his feet again. But he needs some- 
thing neither you nor I can give him. I’m inclined to 
think — and this is something of a concession for me to 
make, Jane — I’m inclined to think Robert Black could. 
Cary’s a dreamer — and a weak one. Bob Black’s a 
dreamer — but a strong one. If he could get Cary to — 

well — to dream the right sort of dream ^You see, it’s a 

case where a knowledge of psychology might take a hand 
where a knowledge of pathology falls down. Do you get 
me?” 

“I think I do. You want me to — encourage an ac- 
quaintance between them?” 

“ That’s exactly what I mean. I know you’re no church- 
goer, my dear — and I admit I’ve never been much of a one 
myself. I feel a bit differently of late — perhaps you can 
guess why. If you could get Cary under the influence 
of this man Black — a friendship between them might 
do the trick. Anyhow, don’t lay any stones in the way 
out of fear of putting yourself under obligations to 
Black. I’ve discovered that he’s happiest when he’s 
doing some abselutely impossible thing for somebody 
to whom he’s under no obligation! to do it. People take 
advantage of a disposition like that — but he can’t exactly 
be trampled on, either — so you’re pretty safe. Now — to 


ii6 


RED AND BLACK 


come down to brass tacks ” And he fell to giving her 

precise directions as to the line of treatment he wished car- 
ried out. 

‘‘He’ll sleep to-night,” he prophesied. “He’s got to. 
I’ll come around this evening and put him under for you. 
Good-bye for now, and remember I’m on the job.” 

She was feeling, as she went back to her difficult task, 
more hopeful about Cary than she had ever felt hitherto. 
Well she might. She had now enlisted in his behalf the 
whole power of a reconstructing force of which until now 
she had hardly recognized the existence. 


CHAPTER VIII 

SPENDTHRIFTS 

T^OBERT BLACK was dressing for the day. This 
AV procedure, simple and commonplace enough in the 
schedule of the ordinary man, was for him usually a some- 
what complicated process. The reason for this was that 
he was apt to be, as to-day, attempting at the same time 
to finish the reading from some left-over chapter of the 
book he had been devouring the last thing before he went 
to bed. Of course he could meither take his cold tub nor 
shave his always darkening chin while perusing the latest 
addition to his rapidly growing library. But the moment 
these activities were over, he could and did don his attire 
for the day while engaged in scanning the printed page 
propped upon the chest of drawers before him. The result 
of this economy of time was that he seldom actually heard 
the bell ring to summon him to his breakfast, and was 
accustomed to appear in the dining-room doorway, book 
in one hand, morning paper just gathered in from the 
doorstep in the other, and to find there Mrs. Hodder 
awaiting him in a grieved silence. He would then offer 
her a smiling apology, upon which she would shake her 
head over the incomprehensible ways of men who thought 
more of the feeding of brains than body, and proceed de- 
votedly to serve him with food kept hot for his coming. 

On this particular morning Black, strolling in as usual, 
book under his arm, newspaper stretched before him, 
117' 


RED AND BLACK 


ii8 

eagerly snatching at the headlines always big with war 
news these days, paused to finish a long paragraph, at the 
same time saying cheerfully, “Good morning, Mrs. Hod- 
der. Late again, am I? Sorry! Afraid Fm hopeless. 
But — ^listen to this:’’ The paragraph finished, he 
looked up, emphatic comment on his lips. It died there 
even as it was born, for the room was empty, the table 
unset, the curtains at the windows undrawn. In brief, no 
breakfast was awaiting the minister this morning, and 
there was no possible explanation visible. 

Black may have been an incorrigible student; he was 
also unquestionably a man of action. He threw book and 
paper upon the table and ascended the back stairs in long 
leaps. Had Mrs. Hodder overslept? It was inconceiva- 
ble. The only other logical supposition then was that 
she was ill. If she were ill — and alone — of course he 
couldn’t get to her too soon — hence the leaps. She must 
be very ill indeed to keep her from preparing the break- 
fast which, he had discovered, was to her, in the manse, 
nothing less than a rite. 

He knocked upon her door. An unhappy voice in- 
stantly replied: “Open the door — ^just a crack — Mr. 
Black, and I’ll tell you ” 

He opened the door the required crack, and the ex' 
planation issued, in unmistakable accents of suffering: 

“I tried my best to get down, I did indeed, Mr. Black. 
But the truth is I can’t move. No — no — ” at an exclama- 
tion from outside the door denoting sympathy and alarm — 
“I haven’t got a stroke nor anything like that. It’s noth- 
ing more nor less than the lumbago, and I’m humiliated to 
death to think I got such a thing. Fm subject to it, and 
that’s the truth, and I never know when it’ll ketch me, 
but I haven’t had a touch of it since I’ve been with you. 


SPENDTHRIFTS, 119 

I begun to think there was something about the manse — 
and doing for a minister, maybe — that kept it away. But 
— it’s caught me good this time, and I don’t know what 
you’ll do for your breakfast. I think maybe you’d better 
go over to the ” 

But here Black interrupted her. ‘‘I’ll get my own 
breakfast,” he announced firmly, “ and yours, too. Stay 
perfectly quiet till I bring you up a tray. After that we’ll 

have the doctor in to see you ” 

He was interrupted in his turn. “I don’t want any 
doctor. Doctors can’t do a thing for lumbago — except 
tell you you got chilled or something, and to keep still 
and rest up. When the pain goes it goes, and you can’t 
tell when. Maybe ’long about noon I can get downstairs. 

I don’t want any breakfast, and if you’ll go over to the ” 

“I’m not going to the hotel, Mrs. Hodder — and you’re 

not going without your breakfast. I will ” 

“You can’t cook!” 

“I can cook enough to keep us from starving. Now, 

lie still and I’ll ” 

“You don’t know where a thing is ” 

“I can find out.” 

A groan issued from the hidden bed. “I never knew 
a man that could. Listen here, Mr. Black. Now the 
coffee’s in the closet up above the kitchen table, the third 
door from the right. It’s in the same can it comes in, 
but it ain’t ground, and the grinder’s in the pantry, 
fastened to the wall. There may be some basins piled in 
front of it — I don’t remember — likely they is. The 
cream’s in the ice-chest — and dont skim the first pan you 
come to, because that’s night’s milk. You want to skim 
yesterday morning’s pan, and that’s pushed back farther. 
Now the bread-box ” 


120 


RED AND BLACK 


“I know where that is — ’’ 

“The oatmeaFs in the double boiler — all you have to do 
is to set it front of the stove, and make sure the water 
ain’t all boiled away. Lucky I always cook that the night 
before. I suppose you don’t know how to light the gas 
in the broiler, so you can toast your bread. It’s the third 
knob to the left ” 

Black got away at last, further instructions following 
him by the air line, in spite of his shouted assurance that 
he could find everything and do everything, and that his 
housekeeper should rest comfortably and stop worrying. 
It must be confessed, however, that he was worrying a 
bit himself, for his first thought that he would make a 
breakfast of oatmeal — since that was already cooked — and 
let it go at that, was instantly followed by the recollection 
that Mrs. Hodder didn’t eat oatmeal herself, but relied 
principally upon the toast and coffee and boiled egg he 
himself was accustomed to take with her. Unquestionably 
she must have these, and it was up to him to prepare 
them. 

He removed his coat, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and 
went at it. He lighted the gas and moved the double 
boiler forward, thus assuring himself of one staple article 
upon the breakfast schedule. He then began a search for 
the coffee, congratulating himself upon remembering that 
the filtered beverage with which he was accustomed to be 
served took time to make. Thus began the tragic hour 
which followed. . . . 

Three quarters of an hour later young Tom Lockwood 
came to the manse door and rang the bell. Black paused, 
halfway between stove and pantry, then turned back 
to the stove, because his sense of smell told him unmis- 
takably that something fatally wrong was occurring there. 


SPENDTHRIFTS 121 

He tried to diagnose the case In a hurry, failed, and hast- 
ened unwillingly through the house to the door, wondering 
just how flushed and upset he looked. He felt both to an 
extreme degree. Absolutely nothing seemed to be going 
right with that breakfast. 

Tom came in, in his customary breezy way. '‘Morning! 
Thought Fd drop in and see if you didn’t want to run 
up on the hills to-day, same as you said a while back, 
when we both had a morning to spare.” He paused, 
surveying his host with an observant eye. "Anything 
the matter, Mr. Black? Haven’t had — bad news, or 
anything?” 

Black smiled. "Do I look as despondent as that? No, 
no — everything’s all right, thank you. But I’m afraid 
I can’t get away this morning to go with you. My house- 
keeper’s not very well. I ” 

"Look here.” Tom eyed a black mark on the minister’s 
forehead, and noted the rolled-up shirt-sleeves. "You’re 
not — trying to get breakfast, are you? I say — I’ll bet 
that’s what you’re doing. If you are, let me help. I can 
make dandy coffee.” Suddenly he sniffed the air. "Some- 
thing’s burning!” 

The two ran back to the kitchen, making a race of it. 
Black won, his nostrils full now of a metallic odour. He 
dashed up to the stove where a double-boiler was pro- 
testing that its lower section had long since boiled dry and 
was being ruined, and hastily removed it. He gazed at it 
ruefully. 

"She told me to look out for it,” he admitted. 

"Some little cook, you are!” Tom, hands in pockets, 
surveyed a saucepan in which two eggs were boiling vio- 
lently, fragments of white issuing from cracked shells. 
"Busted ’em when you put ’em in, didn’t you? How 


123 


RED AND BLACK 

long have they been at it — or isn’t there any time limit to 
the way you like your eggs?” 

Black snatched the saucepan ofF. “I think I must have 
put them on some twenty minutes ago. You see, the 
toast distracted my mind.” He set down the saucepan 
and hurriedly wrenched open the door of the broiler. 
“Oh — thunder!” he exploded. Blackened ruins were all 
that met the eye. 

Tom leaned against a table, exploding joyously. “Want 
me to say it for you?” he offered. 

“Thanks.” Black’s jaw was now set grimly. ‘T 
wonder if there’s any fool thing I haven’t done — or failed 
to do. Anyhow, the coffee ” 

Tom got ahead of him at that, lifted the pot, turned up 
the lid, estimated the contents of the upper container, and 
shook his head. “The brew will be somewhat pale, me- 
thinks,” was his comment. “I say, Mr. Black, you’re 
no camper, are you?” 

“Never had the chance. And never spent an hour 
learning to cook. I’m awfully humiliated, but that doesn’t 
help it any. It did seem simple — to boil an egg and make 
a slice of toast.” 

“ It isn’t — it’s darned complicated. Oatmeal and coffee 
make the scheme horribly intricate, too. I know all about 
it. I’ve leaped around between two camp fires and frizzled 
my bacon to death while I rescued my coffee, and knocked 
over my coffee pot while I fished up the little scraps of bacon 
from the bottom of the frying-pan. Here — I’ll fix the 
coffee. Start some more toast, and we’ll hash up that 
hard-boiled-egg effect to lay on top, and pretend we meant 
it that way from the first. Along towards noon we’ll have 
that tray ready for the lady upstairs.” 

“Tom, you’re a man and a brother. But I’m epinp,^o 


SPENDTHRIFTS 123 

send you ofF and see this thing through alone if it takes all 
day.” And Black pushed him gently but firmly toward 
the door. Tom, laughing, found it no use to resist. He 
paused to lay an appraising hand on the bare forearm 
which was showing such unexpected strength. 

‘‘Some muscle. Til say. Nobody’d guess it 'Under that 
clerical coat-sleeve. Look here — ^you’ll come over to 
dinner to-night, and get a square meal ? Mother’ll be ” 

“Tom, if you so much as mention the situation here Til 
make you pay dearly — see if I don’t! We’re all right. 
I’ll never make these same mistakes again. If Mrs. 
Hodder isn’t down by night I’ll buy a tin of baked beans. 
Promise you won’t give me away.” 

“Oh, all right, all right. You can trust me. But I 
don’t see why ” 

“ I do — and that’s enough. Good-bye, Tom.” 

They went through the hall arm in arm, parted at the 
door, and Tom ran back to his car. “You’re some Scotch- 
man, Robert Black,” he said to himself. “But I wish 
you’d let me make that coffee.” 

It was nine-thirty by the kitchen clock when Mrs, 
Hodder received her breakfast tray. She had managed, 
smotheredly groaning, to don a wrapper, and to comb her 
iron-gray locks, so that according to her ideas of propriety 
she might decently admit her employer to her rigidly neat 
apartment. 

“I’m terrible sorry to make you all this trouble, Mr. 
Black,” she said. “My, it’s wonderful how you’ve done 
all this.” And she eyed the little tray with its cup of 
steaming coffee, now a deep black in hue, its two slices of 
curling but unburned toast, and its opened egg. 

“I think it’s rather wonderful myself,” the minister 
conceded. Moisture stood upon his brow; his right wrist 


124 RED AND BLACK 

showed a red mark as of a burn; but his look was trium- 
phant. “I hope you’ll enjoy it. And Fve asked Doctor 
Burns to look in, on his rounds, and fix you up. If he says 
you should have a nurse we’ll have one.” 

“I don’t want the doctor, and I won’t have a nurse — 
for the lumbago; I’d feel like a fool. All that worries me 
is how you’ll manage till I can get round. You ain’t used 
to doin’ for yourself.” 

“I’ve done for myself in most ways ever since I came 
over from Scotland, a boy of sixteen. Come, eat your 
egg, Mrs. Hodder. I’ll be back for the tray soon. Let 
me put another pillow behind your back ” 

He would wait on her, she couldn’t help it, and it must 
be admitted she rather enjoyed it, in spite of the pain that 
caught her afresh with every smallest move. It was like 
having a nice son to look after her, she thought. She 
submitted to his edict that she was to trust him to run the 
house in her absence from the kitchen, and if she had her 
doubts as to how he would accomplish this, they gave way 
before the decision in his tone. 

It was three days after this that Red, coming in at five 
in the afternoon, to take a look at Mrs. Hodder, whom he 
had been obliged to neglect since his first visit in a pressure 
of work for sicker patients, discovered Black in the midst 
of his new activities. The minister was hurriedly sweep- 
ing and dusting his study, having rushed home from a 
round of calls at the recollection that a committee meeting, 
which included three women, was to be held there that 
evening. Mrs. Hodder was accustomed to keep the room 
in careful order; he himself had been throwing things 
about it for three days now, — and undusted black walnut 
desks and other dark furniture certainly do show neglect 
in a fashion peculiarly unreserved. 


SPENDTHRIFTS 125 

‘‘Well, well!” Red paused in the study door. “I 
knew you were a man of action, but I didn’t know it ex- 
tended this far. Can’t anybody be found to bridge the 
chasm.?” 

“ I don’t want anybody, thanks. A little exercise won’t 
hurt me. Will you stop a minute? I’ll dust that leather 
chair for you.” 

To his surprise Red moved over to the chair and sat 
down on the arm of it. “You look a trifle weary,” he 
observed. 

“That’s the dirt on my face. I swept the room with 
violence — it needed it. Most of the dust settled on me.” 

“They should equip the manse with a vacuum cleaner. 
Been rather busy to-day?” 

“Somewhat. Have you?” Black’s glance said that in 
both cases the fact went without saying. 

“I heard of you in a place or two — been on your trail 
more or less all day, as it happens.” 

“I presume so. This is my day for calling at the 
hospital. 4 It struck me I was on your trail. Doctor.” 

“A sort of vicious circle? If you feel as vicious as I do 
after it, you’re ready for anything. What do you say to a 
camp supper in the woods to-night — instead of tinned 
beans?” 

There were two items in this speech which arrested 
Black’s attention. He stopped dusting. “What do you 
know about tinned beans?” he inquired, suspiciously. 

“Tom has no use for ’em,” was the innocent reply. 
“Never mind — he didn’t tell anybody but me. I’ve been 
having things rather thick myself lately, and just now — 
well, I feel like taking to the tall timber. Want to go with 
me? The woods are rather nice — on a dry winter night 
like this.” 


126 


RED AND BLACK 


“You don’t mean It literally — a camp supper?” 

“Good Lord, man, where were you brought up? I 
thought you were a country boy?” 

“I am — of the South country — Scotland first — the 
States second. But I never went camping in my life. I 
never had time.” 

“Till this week?” Red’s eyes twinkled enjoyingly. 
“You can make coffee by now. I’ll wager. But you can’t 
touch me at making it. Put on your collar and come along. 
I’ll treat you to a new experience, and by the look of you, 
you need it. So do I — ^we’ll clear out together.” 

“I can’t leave Mrs. Hodder without her supper — and 
I have a committee meeting at eight. I’m mighty sorry. 
Doctor ” 

“You needn’t be. I’ll fix the whole thing, and have 
you back in time for the bunch. Come — take orders from 
me, for once.” 

Of course Black never had wanted to do anything in his 
life as he wanted to accept this extraordinary and most 
unprecedented invitation from the red-headed doctor 
whom he could not yet call his friend. The high barriers 
were down between them, there could be no doubt of that. 
Red no longer avoided the minister; he came to church 
now and then; the two met here and there with entire 
friendliness, and had more than once consulted each other 
on matters of mutual interest. But Red, except as he had 
taken Black into his car when passing him upon the road, 
had never directly sought him out on what looked like a 
basis of real pleasure in his society. And now, when Red, 
running upstairs to see Mrs. Hodder, and coming down 
to announce that all she wanted for supper was a little tea 
and bread and butter, and that it was up to Black to fix 
up a tray in a hurry and be ready when he. Red, should 


SPENDTHRIFTS 127 

get back — in about fifteen minutes — ^well, Black was 
pretty glad to give in, cast his broom and dust cloth into 
the kitchen closet, wash his hands, and put a little water 
to boil in the bottom of the kettle over a gas flame turned 
up so high that it was warranted to have the water bub- 
bling in a jiflFy! 

“Now, you just go along with the doctor and rest up,’’ 
commanded Mrs. Hodder, when the tray appeared. “He 
told me he was going to take you out to dinner — and I 
guess you need it — living on canned stuflF, so. He thinks 
I can get down to-morrow, and I certainly do hope so. 
You look about beat out — and no wonder.” 

With this cordial send-oflT Black ran downstairs like a 
boy let out of school, his weariness already lessening under 
the stimulus of the coming adventure. Tired? Just 
to amuse himself, late last evening, he had made a list of 
the things he had done, the people he had seen, the letters 
he had written, the telephone calls he had answered — and 
all the rest of it. It had been a formidable list. And 
living on tinned beans, and crackers and cheese, had not 

been Oh, well — ^what did it matter, so he had got his 

work done, slighted nothing and nobody — though he could 
be by no means sure of that! What minister ever could ? 

He dressed as Red had ordered — heavy shoes, sweater 
under his overcoat, cap instead of hat — he felt indeed like 
a boy ofF on a lark, only that his busy, self-supporting life 
had not furnished him with many comparisons in the way 
of larks. As he ran down the manse steps he realized 
that it was a perfect winter night. There had been Uttle 
snow of late; the air was dry and not too cold; the stars 
were out. And he was going camping in khe woods with 
Red Pepper Burns — and it was not up to him to do the 
cooking! 


128 


RED AND BLACK 


The car slid up to the curb, a big basket in the place 
where Black was to put his feet; he had to straddle it. 
There was not too much time to spare — only a little over 
two hours. The car leaped away down the street, and 
in no time was off over the macadamized road on which 
speed could be made. And then, a mile away from that 
road, with rough going for that mile — but who cared — 
they came to a clump of woods lying on a hillside, and the 
two were out and scrambling up it in the dark. Red evi- 
dently following a trail with accuracy, for Black found no 
difficulty in keeping up with him. 

Upon the top of the hill was a bare, stony space, shel- 
tered from the sides but open to the stars. And here, in 
astonishingly little time, were made two leaping fires the 
basis for which had been a small basket of materials 
brought in the car, upon which hot foundation the gathered 
sticks of the wood had no choice but to burn. Rustling 
fuel with energy. Black soon found himself ready to dis- 
card his overcoat, and by the time the thick steak Red 
was manipulating had reached its rich perfection, as only 
that master of camp cookery could make it. Black was 
thinking that, big as it was, he could devour the whole of 
it himself. 

Coffee — what coffee! Had he ever known the taste 
of it before. Black wondered, as he sniffed the delicious 
fragrance? Red had worked so swiftly — in entire silence 
— that the hands of Black’s watch pointed to a bare seven 
o’clock when he set his teeth into the first hot, juicy morsel 
of meat, feeling like a starved hound who has been fed 
upon scraps for a month. 

“Oh, jolly!” he ejaculated. “I never tasted anything 
so good in my life. Or was so warm on a winter night — ■ 
outdoors!” 


SPENDTHRIFTS 


129 

“You bet you never tasted anything so good — nor were 
so warm outdoors. Why, man, youVe missed the best 
fun in life, if this is your first experience. How does it 
happen?” 

“Fve never done anything but work, and my work 
never took me into the woods, that’s all. Fve looked at 
them longingly many a time, but — there was always 
something else to do. What a place this is! Of all places 
on earth to come to to-night this seems the] best. It’s 
an old favourite camping spot of yours?” 

“One of many. This is nearest — I can run to it when 
I haven’t time to get farther. Even so — I don’t manage 
it very often.” 

“Fm sure you don’t!” Black’s eyes, in the firelight, 
looked across into Red’s. The moment the cookery was 
done Red had replenished both fires, and the two men now 
sat on two facing logs between them. “Your time is 
fuller than that of any man I ever knew,” Black added. 

“Lots of busy men in the world.” 

“I know. But your hours are fuller than their full 
hours because of what you do — ^your profession.” 

“I do only what I have to do. But you — I wonder i{ 
you know it, Black — you’re a spendthrift!” 

“What?” The explosive tone spoke amazement. 

Red nodded. “Fve been wanting to tell you for some 
time. Do you know you probably weigh about fifteen 
pounds less than you did when you came here? Keep 
that up, and you’ll be down to rock bottom.” 

Black laughed. He held up one arm, the hand clenched. 
^^Do you remember the challenge I gave you last summer. 
Doctor, to a wrestle, any time you might take me up.^ 
If we weren’t both stuffed, just now, I’d have it out with 
you, here and now.” 


RED AND BLACK 


130 

‘‘Very likely you could put it all over me — though I’m 
not so sure of that.” Red was eyeing his companion vnth 
the professional eye still. “But — go on as you are doing, 
and a year from now it’ll be different. You’re wasting 
nervous energy — and you can’t afford to. It’s as I say — 
you’re a spendthrift. What’s the use?” 

“I’m a Scotsman — and that’s equivalent to saying I 
spend only what’s necessary. It’s a contradiction in 
terms ” 

“It is not — excuse me. I’ve been reading about one 
of your Scottish regiments over there — cut to pieces — 
and they knew they were going to be when they went into 
it. Call them thrifty — of their lives?” 

“Ah, that’s different. They were glorious. As for 
that. Doctor — to right-about-face with my defense — why 
shouldn’t one be a spendthrift with his life? You’re one 
yourself.” 

“Not I. I practice my profession, and mine only. 
You practice — about four. Last week I caught you play- 
ing nurse to a family of small children while their mother 
went shopping.” Red held up a silencing hand at Black’s 
laughter. “Yes, I know she hadn’t been out for a month. 
That same night you made a speech somewhere — and sat 

tip the rest of the night with Cary Ray Oh, yes — I 

know he’s improved a lot lately, but he got restless that 
night and you stuck by. Next day ” 

“Doctor Burns ” 

^‘Wait a minute. Next day you ” 

*‘How do you come to be keeping tab on me?” Black 
stood up, fire in his eye. “ See here ! Last week you did 
seven operations on patients who couldn’t afford to pay 
you a cent — and they weren’t in charity wards, either. 
Day before yesterday ” 


SPENDTHRIFrS 131 

But he ha^ to stop, having but fairly begun. Red’s 
expression said he wouldn’t stand for it. Xhe two re- 
garded each other in the light of the fires, and both faces 
were glowing ruddily. They suggested two antagonists 
about to spring. 

‘‘If I’m a spendthrift, so are you!” Black challenged. 
“Why shouldn’t we be, at that.? Who gets anything out 
of life — not to mention giving anything — who isn’t a 
spendthrift.? 'He who saveth his life shall lose it * — and 
nobody knows that better than you, Doctor Burns!” 

“But you waste yours, you know,” said Burns, with 
emphasis. 

“No more than you do.” 

“ I do it to save life.” 

“And what do I do it for.?” The question came back 
like a shot, with stinging emphasis and challenge. 

The two pairs of eyes continued to meet dashingly, and 
for a minute neither would give way. Then Red said, 
with a rather grudging admission, “ I know you think you 
have to do all these extras, and you do them with intent 
and purpose, and willingly, at that. But I don’t back, 
down on my proposition — that you’re working harder at: 
it than is necessary. I’ll admit I want you to do what you>. 
can for Cary Ray — for his sister’s sake. But when it, 
comes to the DuBoises, and the Corrigans, and the Ander- 
sons — why should you spend yourself on them — ungrate- 
ful beggars?” 

“I can only ask you. Doctor, why you spend yourself' 
on the Wellands and the Kalanskys, and the Kellys?” 

Suddenly Red’s attitude changed, with one of those 
characteristic quick shifts which made him such delightful 
company. He looked at his watch and sat down on the 
log again. “Six minutes to stay, and then back to that 


RED AND BLACK 


132 

blamed committee meeting for yours, and back to m> 
office for me — I can see ten people sitting there now, in my 
mind’s eye. Hang it — why can’t a fellow stay in the open 
when it’s there he can be at his best, physically and 
mentally?’’ 

“It seems to make you a bit pugilistic!” 

Red looked up, laughing. “How about you? For a 
parson it strikes me you can fight back with both fists.” 

“Doctor — let’s have that wrestle now! I’d like it to 
remember. ” 

“You would, would you ? Hold on — don’t take off your 
coat. I know better than to play tricks with my digestion 
like that, if you don’t. You’re younger than I — you 
might get away with it. But — I’ll give you that tussle 
some day you’re so anxious for.” 

“Meanwhile — I wish you’d give me something else.” 

“What’s that?” Red was instantly on his guard — 
Black could see that clearly. He had expected it. But 
it did not deter him from saying the thing he wanted to 
say. 

“Shake hands with me. Did you know you never 
have?” 

“Never have!” 

“Not the way I want you to. I’m asking you now to 
shake hands with my profession. I’m tired of having you 
against it. I ask you to give it fair play in your mind. 
You admit that it’s worth while for you to spend the last 
drop you have for human life. But it’s wasting good red 
blood for a man to spend his for human souls. Do you 
mean it? Ah, Doctor Burns, you don’t. Tell me so — ■ 
the way I want you to.” 

The suspicion dropped out of Red’s eyes, but into them 
came something else — the showing of a dogged human will. 


SPENDTHRIFTS 


133 

He stood looking into the fire, his hands in his pockets — 
where they had been for some time. He made no motion 
to withdraw them. Black’s hands were clasped behind 
him — he made no motion to extend them. A long silence 
succeeded — or long it seemed to Black, at least. Had 
he lost his case? He had never thought to state it thus, 
to Red — but when the moment came it had seemed to 
him he could do no otherwise. . . . His heart beat 

rather heavily. . . . How was Red going to take it? 

The red-headed surgeon looked up at last. “Do you 
mean you want me to shake hands with your entire pro- 
fession — all the men in it?” 

“Are there no charlatans in medicine? But you — 
are the real thing. I wouldn’t deny you a handshake — 
if you wanted it.” 

Slowly Red drew his right hand out of his pocket. 
“You want this tribute — to you, as a minister?” 

Then Black’s eyes flamed. He took a step backward. 
“I want no ‘tribute,’ Doctor, — my heaven! — ^you don’t 
think that! All I want is — to know that — as a minister 
you can shake hands with me and believe — ^that I’m as real 

as I know you to be. If you can’t do that ” he turned 

aside. “Oh, never mind! I didn’t mean to try to force 
it from ybu. Let’s be off. It must be high time, and 
it’s more than high time if ” 

A hand fell on his shoulder and stayed there. Another 
hand found his and gripped it tight. “Oh, come along. 
Bob Black!” said a gruff voice with yet a ring in it. 

You’re the realest chap I know. And I’ve tried my 
darned best not to like you — and I can’t get away with 
it. Now — are you satisfied?” 


CHAPTER IX 

“BURN, FIRE, BURN!’’ 

S is, I’ll stump you to go to church with me this 
morning!” 

It may have been rather a peculiar form of invitation to 
:attend upon the service of the sanctuary, but that was not 
the reason for the startled expression on Jane Ray’s face. 
5he simply couldn’t believe that it was her brother Cary 
who was making the proposal. Church! — ^when had Cary 
«ver gone to any church whatever? — unless it might have 
been for the purpose of gathering material for some bril- 
liant, ironic article with which to do his share in that old 
fight of the world against the forms of religion. As for her- 
self — it had long been her custom to employ her Sunday 
mornings in making up her business accounts for the week. 

Her reply was a parry. “What church would you 
suggest going to?” 

Cary’s glance at her was both sharp and whimsical. “Is 
there more than one ? According to what I hear, the ‘Stone 
Church,’ as they call it, is the one where the town is flock- 
ing to hear our friend, the fighting parson, say things that 
stop the breath. I understand his trustees are mostly 
pacifists. It must grind ’em like fun to hear their Scots- 
man firing his machine gun, regardless. I admit I want to 
be in on it. I think this country’s going to get into it be- 
fore long, and when it does I expect to see Robert Black 
off* like a shot for some place where pacifists are unpopular.” 


“BURN, FIRE, BURN!” 135 

“He has never asked us to come to his church,” Jane 
temporized. 

“No. That’s why I want to go. I’ve been waiting 
all this while to have him ask me, so I could turn him down. 
But he never has, so, being quite human. I’m piqued into 
going on my own motion. Come along. Sis. I’ll guar- 
antee if an old sinner like me can stand the gafF, a young 
saint like you will be in her element.” 

Jane gave him a sparkling smile. “Veiy^ well, Cary 
Ray. It will be your fault if we feel like fish very much 
out of water and don’t know how to act. I haven’t been 
in a church in at least three years.” 

“The more shame to you. Most of them are mighty 
comfortable places in which to sit and pursue your own 
train of thought, and on that ground alone you should be 
a constant attendant. Though I doubt very much if 
we are able to pursue any train of thought, within hearing 
of R. Black, except the one he chooses to put up to us. 
The more I’ve seen of him the more I’ve discovered of his 
little tendency to keep one occupied with him exclusively. 
Well, if you’ll go I’ll have a clean shave and look up my 
best gloves. We’ll give him a bit of a surprise. To tell the 
truth. I’m beginning to think we owe it to him.” 

There could be small doubt of this. In the three 
months which had intervened between Cary Ray’s arrival — 
for all hope there seemed of him, both physically and mor- 
ally down and out — Robert Black had stood steadily by 
him. His comradeship had been a direct challenge to 
Cary’s better self, and all that was good in the young man 
— and there was undoubtedly very much — had rallied 
to meet the sturdy beckoning of this new friend. At an 
early date the two had discovered that, different as they 
were in character, they had one thing mightily in common 


RED AND BLACK 


136 

— the delights and tortures of the creative brain. Jane 
had called Cary a genius, and so he was — perhaps in the 
lesser and more commonly used meaning of the too much 
used word. His articles on any theme were always wel- 
comed in certain of the best newspaper and magazine 
offices, and only his lack of dependability and his erratic 
ways of working had kept him from rapid advancement 
in his world. 

Black, discovering almost at once that he had to^ deal 
with a brain which, if it could be freed from the handicap 
of dissipation, would be capable of production worth any 
effort to salvage from the threatened wreck, had thrown 
himself, heart and soul, into winning Cary’s friendship on 
the ground of their common interest and understanding. 
To do this he had used every particle of skill he possessed, 
and his reward had been the knowledge of the steadily 
lengthening periods of Cary’s reasonableness and his re- 
sponse to the stimulus which will always be greater than 
almost any other — the demand of a friend who cares that 
we live up to his belief in us. Cary had come to think 
of Robert Black as the best friend he had in the world, 
after his sister, and to look forward to the hours the two 
spent together as the brightest spots in a life which had 
become dimmed at an age when it should have known its 
fullest zest. 

Thus it came about that Robert Black, entering his 
pulpit that Sunday morning, and presently taking estimate 
of his congregation, as a preacher must do if he is to know 
how to aim accurately and fire sitraight, caught sight of 
two people whose presence before him gave him a distinct 
shock of surprise. He had been sure he would some time 
get that shock, but it had been long delayed, and he had 
rather doggedly persisted in withholding the direct invita- 


“BURN, FIRE, BURN!” 


137 

tion, reasoning with himself that he would rather have 
Jane and C'ary come for any other reason than the paying 
of the debt he knew they must feel they owed him. 

And now they were there before him — rather near him, 
too. Young Perkins, one of the ushers for the middle 
aisle, had pounced on them as a pair who would do credit 
Xo his natural desire to have all the best dressed and most 
Jistinguished looking strangers placed where they would 
do the most good to the personnel of the congregation. 
He knew Jane for what he called “a stunner,” thereby 
paying youthful tribute to her looks and quiet perfection 
of dress. As for Cary, one glance of appraisal had placed 
him, for Perkins, in the class of the ‘‘classy,” than which 
there is no greater compliment in the vocabulary of the 
Perkinses. Therefore it was that Perkins, leading Jane 
and Cary down the middle aisle, had complacently slipped 
them into the pew of one of the leading members — to-day 
out of town, as he knew — and thus had left them within 
exceedingly close range of whatever gunfire might be at 
the command of the pulpit. Perkins, having hurriedly 
scanned the headlines of the morning papers, had a hunch 
that it was going to be one of those mornings when the 
congregation would be likely to leave the church with 
its hair a trifle rampant on its brow from excited thrust- 
ings — or with its hats a little askew from agitated noddings 
or shakings. He had come to look forward to such Sun- 
days with increasing zest. There was something else to 
stake quarters on with the other ushers, these days, than 
on how late Doctor Burns was going to be at church, or 
how short a time he would be permitted to remain there. 
Perkins was beginning to wonder how he had ever endured 
the dull times of Black’s immediate predecessor; certainly 
he was rejoicing that they were over. 


RED AND BLACK 


138 

Frances Fitch, in the Lockhart pew, just across the 
aisle and two rows behind Jane and Cary, found the pair 
a particularly interesting study. Through Tom she had 
heard much of Cary; she had caught only unsatisfying 
glimpses before. As he sat at the end of the pew nearest 
the aisle she had a full view of that profile which had first 
assured Black that Cary was indeed Jane’s brother, and 
it now struck Miss Fitch as one of the most attractive 
masculine outlines she had ever seen. Cary was still 
distinctly pale, but his pallor was becoming more healthy 
with each succeeding day of Jane’s skillful feeding, and his 
manner had lost its excessive nervousness. To the eye, 
by now, he merely looked the interesting convalescent 
from a possibly severe illness, with every probability of a 
complete return to full fitness of body. As to his mind — 
one glance at him could hardly help suggesting to the in- 
telligent observer that here was a young man who possessed 
brains trained to the point of acuteness and efficiency in 
whatever lines they might be employed. 

To look at either Cary or Jane, moreover, one would 
hardly have said that church was to them so unaccustomed 
a place. Jane, sitting or rising with the rest, sharing 
hymn-book or printed leaf of the responsive service with 
her brother, appeared the most decorous of regular com- 
municants. For herself, however, she was experiencing 
many curious reactions, the most distinct of which, 
throughout the preliminary service, was caused by the 
sight of Robert McPherson Black, in his gown, and with 
the high gravity upon him which she had never before 
seen in precisely its present quality. Could this be the 
spirited young man who came so often to spend an hour 
with Cary, his face and manner full of a winning gayety 
or of an equally winning vigour of speech and action? 


“BURN, FIRE, BURNt/^ 


139 

This was another being indeed who confronted her, a 
being removed from her as by a great gulf fixed, his fine 
eyes by no chance meeting hers, his voice by no means 
addressed to her, but to the remotest person in his audi- 
ence, far back under the gallery. For the first time Jane 
Ray was realizing that well as it had seemed to her that 
she had come to know the man Black, she actually knew 
him hardly at all, for here, in this place to her so unfa- 
miliar, was his real home! 

And then, very soon came an equally strong reaction 
from this first impression of remoteness. For, the mo- 
ment the anthems and the responses and the rest of the 
preliminary service was over, and Black had been for 
three minutes upon his feet in his office of preacher, the 
whole situation was reversed. No longer did he seem to 
be sending that trained and reverent voice of his to every 
quarter of the large, hushed audience room; but in a new 
and arresting way he was addressing Jane Ray very di- 
rectly, he was speaking straight to her, and she had quite 
forgotten that there was any one else there to hear. If 
this impression of hers was precisely like that which 
reached each person within sound of his voice who pos- 
sessed the intelligence to listen, that was nothing to her — 
nor to them. The simple fact was that when Robert 
Black spoke to an audience as from his very first word 
he was speaking now, that audience had no choice but 
to listen, and it listened as individuals, with each of whom 
he was intimately concerned. 

As for Cary Ray — perhaps there was nobody in that 
whole audience so well qualified to measure the speaker’s 
ability and power as he. He had spent no small portion 
of his early after-college days in repo»rting for a great city 
daily, and his assignment very often had been the follow- 


RED AND BLACK 


140 

ing up of one noted speaker after another. He had listened 
to eloquence of all sorts, spurious and real; had come to 
be a judge of quality in human speech in all its ramifica- 
tions; was by now himself a literary critic of no inferior 
sort. His mind, at its best — and it was not far short of 
its best on this Sunday morning — was keen and clear. As 
he gave himself up to Black as one gives himself up to a 
friend who is setting before him a matter of import, he was 
a hearer of the sort whom speakers would go far to find. 

Did Black know this? Unquestionably he did. He 
knew also that Red was in his audience this morning, and 
Jane Ray, and Nan Lockhart, and Fanny Fitch, and 
many another, and that every last one of them was listen- 
ing as almost never before. How could they help but 
hear, when he was saying to them that which challenged 
their attention as he was challenging it now? 

This was in February, nineteen seventeen. Diplomatic 
relations with Germany had been severed; America was 
on the brink of war. One tremendous question was en- 
gaging the whole country: was it America’s duty to go 
into war? Was it her necessity? Was it — and here a few 
voices were rising loud and clear — was it not only her 
necessity and her duty — ^was it her privilege ? 

No doubt where Robert Black stood. It was America’s 
privilege, the acceptance of which had been already too 
long postponed. In no uncertain terms he made his con- 
viction clear. The blood baptism which was purifying 
the souls of other countries must be ours as well, or never 
again could we be clean. To save our souls — to save our 
souls — that was his plea! 

‘‘Oh, I wish,” he cried out suddenly toward the end, 
“I wish I had the dramatic power to set the thing before 
you so that you might see it as you see a convincing play 


“BURN, FIRE, BURN!’’ 


141' 

upon a stage. Never a human drama like this one — and 
we — are sitting in the boxes! Bathed and clean clothed 
and gloved — gloved — we are sitting in the boxes and look- 
ing on — and applauding now and then — as loudly as we 
may, wearing gloves! And over there — their hands are 
torn and bleeding with wounds — while we delay — and 
delay — and delay!” 

Dov/n in the pew before him Cary Ray suddenly 
clenched his fists. His arms had been folded — his hands 
were gloved. Gloved hands could clench then! Into 
his brain — now afire with Black’s own fire, as it had been 
more than once before now as the two talked war to- 
gether — but never as now — never as now — there sprang 
an idea, glowing with life. His writer’s instinct leaped 
at it, turned it inside out and back again, saw it through 
to its ultimate effort — and never once lost track of Black’s 
closing words, or missed a phrase of the brief prayer that 
followed, a prayer that seemed to rise visibly from the 
altar, so burning were the words of it. ^ Cary rose from his 
seat, a man illumined with a purpose. 

Up the aisle he felt Red’s hand upon his arm. Those 
orders to the usher not to call the red-headed doctor out 
for anything but an emergency had been regularly in 
force of late. Astonishingly often was the once absentee 
now able to make connections with his pew, at least in 
time for the sermon. To his friend Macauley, who now 
and then let loose jeering comments upon the subject of 
his change of ways, he was frank to admit that it did make 
a difference in the drawing power of the church whether 
the man in the pulpit could aim only soft and futile blows, 
or whether he could hit straight and fast and hard. “And 
whether,” Red added once, bluntly, “you happen to 
know that he practises precisely what he preaches.” 


RED AND BLACK 


142 

In Cary’s ear Red now said incisively: ‘‘What are you 
betting that sermon will cost him half his congregation?” 

Cary turned, his dark eyes afire. “If it does, we’ll fill 
it up with vagrants like me. My lord, that was hot stuff! 
And this is the first time I’ve heard him — more fool I. 
Why didn’t you let a fellow know?” 

Red laughed rather ruefully. “Cary,” he said, “it’s 
astonishing how we do go on entertaining angels unawares. 
But when we get one with a flaming sword, like this one, 
we’re just as liable to cut and run as to stay by and get 
our own hands on a hilt somewhere.” 

“I’ve got mine on one, I promise you,” murmured Cary. 
His one idea now was to reach home and lay his hand 
upon it. If, to him, his fountain pen was the trustiest 
sword in his arsenal, let none disparage that mighty 
weapon. In his hands, if those hands remained steady, 
it might in time do some slashing through obstacles. 

It was just three days later that Jane Ray, coming in 
from the shop, saw Cary sling that pen — hurriedly capped 
for the purpose — dear across the table, at which for those 
three days he had been writing almost steadily. He threw 
up his arms in a gesture of mingled fatigue and triumph. 

“ Janey,” he said, “I want you to send for Robert Black, 
and Doctor and Mrs. Burns, and your friend Miss Lock- 
hart — you told me she wrote plays at college, didn’t you? 
— and her friend. Miss Fitch, the raving beauty who acts 
— probably acts all the time, but none the worse for that, 
for my purpose. Also, Tommy Lockhart. I want ’em 
all, and I want ’em quick. I can’t sleep till I’ve had ’em 
here to listen to what I’ve done. And now — if I weren’t 
under your roof, and if I didn’t care such a blamed lot 
about not letting Black down — I’d go out and take a 


“BURN, FIRE, BURN!” 143 

drink. Oh, don’t worry — I won’t — not just yet, any- 
how. I’ll go out and take a walk instead. My head’s on 
fire and my feet are two chunks from the North Pole.” 

Happier than she had been for a long time, her hopes 
for her brother rising higher than they had yet dared to 
rise, in spite of all the encouragement his improvement 
had given her, Jane made haste to summon these people 
whose presence he had demanded. They came on short 
notice; even Red, who said at first that he couldn’t make 
it by any possible chance, electrified them all and made 
Cary’s pale cheek glow with satisfaction when at the last 
minute he appeared. 

‘‘Confound you, who are you to interfere with my 
schedule.?” Red growled, as he shook hands. “I was due 
at a Medical Society Meeting, where I was booked as 
leader of a discussion. They’ll discuss the thing to tatters 
without me, while I could have rounded ’em up and 
driven ’em into the corral with one big discovery that 
they’re not onto yet.” 

“Mighty sorry, Doctor. But, you see, I had to have 
you.” Cary grinned at him impudently. “I’ve been 
raving crazy for three days and nights, and if I can’t call 

in medical aid on the strength of that Oh, I know 

I’m mighty presumptuous, but — ^well — ^listen, and I’ll try 
to justify myself.” 

They listened for an hour. They could hardly help 
it. As a down-and-outer Cary Ray had been an object of 
solicitude and sympathy; as a clever, forceful, intensely 
yet restrainedly dramatic playwright, he was a person to 
astonish and take his new acquaintances off their feet. 
Stirred as he had been, gripped by the big idea Black had 
unknowingly put into his head, he had gone at this task 
as he had time and again gone at a difficult piece of news- 


RED AND BLACK 


144 

paper work. With every faculty alert, every sense of the 
dramatic possibilities of the conception stringing him to 
a tension, his thoughts thronging, his language fluid, his 
whole being had been sharpened into an instrument which 
his brain, the master, might command to powerful purpose. 
Thus had he written the one-act war play which was to 
fire the imagination, enlist the sympathies, capture the 
hearts of thousands of those who later saw it put upon 
the vaudeville circuit, where its influence, cumulative as 
the fame of it spread and the press comments grew in 
wonder and praise, was accountable for many a patriotic 
word and act which otherwise never had been born. 

But now — he was reading it for the first time to this 
little audience of chosen people, ‘Trying it out on them,” 
as the phrase ran in his own mind. He had no possible 
doubt of its reception. His own judgment, trained to 
pass upon his own performance with as critical a sureness 
as upon that of any other man, told him that he had done a 
remarkable piece of work. To him it was ancient history 
that when he could write as he had written now, with 
neither let nor hindrance to the full use of his powers, it 
followed as the night the day that his editors would put 
down the sheets with that grim smile with which they 
were wont to accept the best a man could do, nod at him, 
possibly say: “Great stuff, Ray,” — and brag about it 
afterward where he could not hear. 

To-night, when he laid down the last sheet and got up 
to stroll over to a shadowy corner and get rid of his own 
overwrought emotion as best he might, he understood 
that the silence which succeeded the reading was his 
listeners’ first and deepest tribute to his art. His climax 
had been tremendous, led up to by every least word and 
indicated action that had gone before, the finished product 


“BURN, FIRE, BURN!’’ 


HS 

of a nearly perfect craftsmanship. Small wonder that 
for a long minute nobody found voice to express the 
moved and shaken condition in which each found himself. 

But when it did come, there was nothing wanting. If 
they were glad beyond measure, these people, that they 
could honestly approve the work of this brother of Jane’s, 
this was but a small part of the feeling which now had its 
strong hold upon them. Wonder, delight, eagerness to 
see the little drama glow like a jewel upon the stage — 
these were what brought words to the tongue at length. 
And then — plans! 

‘^We can’t get it on too quick,” was Red’s instant deci- 
sion. ‘‘It must be done here first, and then turned loose 
on the circuit. We can handle it. Nan Lockhart can 
help you get it up, Cary — and take the part of the English- 
woman, too. Of course Miss Fitch must do the French 
actress — she’s cut out for that. I’m inclined to think 
my wife would make the best Belgian mother. Tom can 
be the wounded young poilu, and you, Ray — will be the 
French officer to the life. As for the rest — ^we have plenty 
of decidedly clever young actors who will be equal to the 
minor parts.” 

There was a general laugh. “I seem to see the foot- 
lights turned on already,” Cary declared. “But that’s 
not a bad assignment. Would you — ” he turned to 
Black — “I wonder if you would take the part of the 
American surgeon.” 

Now this was a great part, if a small one as to actual 
lines. Every eye turned to the minister. Fit the part — 
with that fine, candid face, those intent eyes? No doubt 
that he did. But he shook his head with decision. 

“I’d do much for you, Ray,” he said, “but not that. 
It’s not possible for me to take a part. I’ve a real tea- 


146 RED AND BLACK 

son,” as Cary’s lips opened, “so don’t try to persuade 
me. But ril help in every way I can. And as for the 
surgeon — ^why not take the one at hand?” And he indi- 
cated Burns himself. 

“I’ll do it!” announced Red, most unexpectedly. 

They spent a fascinated hour discussing the characters 
and who could do them full justice. There was nobody 
to see, but if there had been a disinterested onlooker, he 
might have said to himself that here was a group of people 
who of themselves were playing out a little drama of their 
own, each quite unconsciously taking a significant part. 
There was R. P. Burns, M. D. — his red head and vigorous 
personality more or less dominating the scene. There was 
Ellen Burns, his wife — dark-eyed, serene, highly intelligent 
in the occasional suggestions she made, but mostly allow- 
ing others to talk while she listened with that effect of 
deep interest which made her so charming to everyone. 
There was Nan Lockhart, quick of wit and eager to bring 
all her past training to bear on the situation, her bright 
smile or her quizzical frown registering approval or criti* 
cism. There was Fanny Fitch, radiant with delight in the 
prospects opening before her, her eyes starry, her face 
repeating the rose-leaf hues of the scarf she wore within 
her sumptuous dark cape of fur — somehow Miss Fitch’s 
skillful dressing always gave a point of light and colour 
for the eye to rest gratifiedly upon. Then there was 
Robert Black, rather quiet to-night, but none the less 
a person to be decidedly taken into account, as was 
quite unconsciously proved by the eyes which turned his 
way whenever he broke his silence with question or sug- 
gestion. There was Tom Lockhart, somehow reminding 
one of a well-trained puppy endeavouring to maintain his 
dignity while bursting to make mischief; his impish glance 


“BURN, FIRE, BURN!" 


147 

resting on one face after another, his gay young speech 
occasionally causing everybody’s gravity to break down — 
as when he solemnly declared that unless he himself were 
allowed to play some austerely exalted part yet to be 
written into the play he would go home and never come 
back. There was Jane Ray, who sat n#xt Tom, and who 
somehow looked to-night as young as he — ^younger, even, 
than Miss Fitch, whose elegance of attire contrasted curi- 
ously with Jane’s plain little dark blue frock. Jane’s bru- 
nette beauty was deeply enhanced to-night by her warm 
colour and her brilliant smile; her sparkling eyes as she 
watched her brother gave everybody the impression that 
she was gloriously happy — as indeed] she was. For was 
not Cary 

Cary himself was probably the figure in the room which, 
if this little scene had been actually part of a drama, would 
have become the focus of the audience’s absorption. In- 
teresting as they were, the other actors only contributed 
to his success — he was the centre of the stage. Dark, 
lithe, his excitement showing only in his flashing eyes, 
his manner cool, controlled — he was the picture of an actor 
himself. He was keenly aware that the tables had sud- 
denly bden turned, and that from being a mysterious sort 
of invalid, Jane’s ne’er-do-well brother, he had emerged 
in an hour. He had gathered a wreath of laurels and set 
it upon his own brow, and was now challenging them all 
to say if he had not a place in the world after all, could 
not claim it by right of his amazing ability, could not ask 
to be forgiven all his sins in view of his dazzling exhibition 
of an art nobody had realized he possessed. Undeniably 
this was Cary’s hour, and Jane, being only human, 
and loving him very much, was daring to believe once 
again that her brother was redeemed to her. It may 


RED AND BLACK 


148 

not be wondered at that now and again her eyes rested' 
gratefully upon the two men who had done this thing for 
Cary — and for her. She knew that they must be rejoicing, 

too. 

It was, therefore, something of a shock to her when 
from Robert Black, before they left, she had a low-toned 
warning. “Miss Ray — ’’ Black had chosen his oppor- 
tunity carefully; for the moment the two were well apart 
from the rest — “I don’t dare not tell you to look out 
for him to-night. After we are gone, and he is alone, 
there will come an hour of — well — he will be more vulner- 
able than he has been for a month. Don’t let him slip 
away — see him safely relaxed and asleep.” 

Jane’s expression was incredulous. “Oh, not to-night, 
when he is so proud and happy — so glad to have you all 
his friends, and to show you at last that he is your equal in 
— so many ways.” 

He nodded gravely: “Believe me, I know what I’m 
saying. It’s a bit of an intoxication in itself, this reaction 
from his long languor of mind. He’s done a magnificent 
thing, and he’s now in very great danger. Don’t allow 
yourself to minimize it,” 

“Oh, you’re very good!” Jane’s tone was a little im- 
patient, in spite of herself. “But you do misjudge him — ■ 
to-night. Why, he’s just his old self — as you’ve never 
known him. Of course, I’ll stay by him — and I under- 
stand. But — his temptation has always been when he 
was blue and unhappy, not when he was on the top wave 

of joy, as he is to-night — as he deserves to be ” Her 

voice broke a little, she turned away. She herself was 
keyed higher than she knew; she simply couldn’t bear to 
have Robert Black, or anybody else, distrust Cary to-night 
— dear, wonderful Cary, with his shining eyes and his 


^BURN, FIRE, BURN!” 149 

adorable smile, her beloved brother and bis genius both 
restored to her. 

Black’s low voice came after her: “I’m sorry — I didn’t 
mean to hurt your happiness to-night, of all nights. I 
only — ^want you to take care of him as ” 

But she was off, back to her guests, cutting him short, 
with only a nod and half smile back at him, which showed 
him that she thought him wrong — and a little cruel, too. 

She was surer than ever that he had been mistaken when 
they were all gone, their congratulations on Cary’s work 
still ringing in her ears. He threw himself upon the couch 
with a long laughing breath and a prolonged stretch of the 
arms. “Smoke and ashes, but I’m tired!” he declared. 
“I’ll stop and chin with you about ten minutes, and then 
it’s me for bed.” 

He seemed hardly to listen while she told him how she 
felt about his work and the evening, how she knew they 
all felt. She could see that he was all at once very sleepy 
and exhausted, and when, before the ten minutes were 
barely up, he rose and stumbled across the room, declaring 
that he couldn’t hold out another second, she smiled to 
herself as she put her arm on his shoulder and insisted on 
his good-night kiss. He had to cut a yawn in two to give 
It to her. This tired boy in any danger? Hardly! If 
he had still been excited and overstrung she might have 
had fears for him, but now — why, he would be asleep be- 
fore he could get his clothes off — that was what was most 
likely to happen, after these three days and nights of con- 
suming labour. She would look in, by and by, and make 
sure that, as in his boyish days, he had not thrown himself 
across the bed without undressing at all, and gone ofF into 
a deep slumber from which her sisterly ministrations would 
not wake him. 


RED AND BLACK 


150 

She never knew what actually happened that night. 
She was a long time herself in making ready for bed, and 
so busy were her thoughts that for an hour she quite forgot 
her resolve to make sure of Cary’s safety. Then, just to 
prove that Black was unreasonable in his fears, she went 
to Cary’s door, opened it very gently, and saw in the bed 
his motionless figure, evidently in as deep a sleep as any 
one could wish. She went back to her own room with 
a curious sense of injury upon her. Why had the minister 
tried to alarm her when there was so little need? Hadn’t 
she had anxious hours enough? 

Within a quarter of an hour the door of the shop very 
softly opened, and Cary Ray let himself out into the silent 
little street. His coat collar was up, his hat pulled over 
his eyes; he stole away on noiseless feet. If Jane could 
have seen then the eyes beneath that sheltering hat-brim 
she would have understood. Sleep? They had never 
been farther from it, so glitteringly sleepless were they. 

But Robert Black saw those eyes — and he had already 
understood. As Cary slipped round the corner he ran 
straight into a tall figure coming his way. With a low 
exclamation of dismay he would have rushed by and away, 
but Black wheeled and was at his side, walking with him. 

‘‘Out for a walk, Ray?” said the low, friendly voice he 
had come to know so well. “I know how that is — I’ve 
often done it myself. Nothing like the crisp night air for 
taking that boiling blood out of a fellow’s brain and send- 
ing it over his body, where it belongs. May I walk with 
you? I’m still abnormally keyed-up myself over that 
play of yours. No wonder you can’t settle to sleep.” 

Well, Cary couldn’t get away, and he knew he couldn’t. 
As well try to escape an officer’s handcuff if he had been 
caught stealing as that kind, inexorable offer of comrade- 


‘‘BURN, FIRE, BURN!’’ 


151 

ship through his temptation. He knew Black well enough 
by now to know that his standing by meant that he simply 
wouldn’t let Cary’s temptation have a chance — it might 
as well slink away and leave him, for it couldn’t get to 
him past Robert Black’s defense. 

Quite possibly neither of these two ever could have told 
how many miles they walked that icy winter’s night, but 
walk they did till every drop of Cary’s hot blood was 
rushing healthily through his weary body, and the fires 
in his brain had died the death they must inevitably die 
under such treatment. They walked in silence for the 
most part. Cary wasn’t angry, even at the first — he was 
ashamed, disappointed — but not angry. How could he 
be really angry with a man who loved him enough for this.? 
And, deep down in his heart, presently he was glad — 
glad to be saved from himself. Was it for the man who 
had written that splendid play to take it out in the old 
degradation; was it for him who had made Truth shine in 
an embodiment of loveliness to drag its creator in the 
mire on this same night that his friends had looked upon 
his work and declared that it was good.? When at last he 
stumbled wearily along the little street again, with a stum- 
bling that was no feigning this time but the genuine sign 
of a fatigue so overpowering that sleep was almost on 
its heels, he was thankful to this strange and comprehend- 
ing friend as he had never been thankful to him before. 

“Good-night, Ray,” said Robert Black, at the shop 
door, and under the street-light Cary saw the smile that 
had come to mean more to him to-night than it ever had 
before — and it had meant much already. 

“Do you trust me now.?” Cary met the dark eyes 
straightforwardly at last. 

“Absolutely. I trusted you before. It was the over- 


RED AND BLACK 


152 

Strained nerves and brain I was anxious for, because IVe 
had them many a time myself. They’re hard to manage. 
Taking them to walk is just good medicine, that’s all. 
You’ll sleep like a top, now.” 

‘‘And you’re sure I won’t slide out, when you’re gone?” 
Black’s hand gripped Cary’s. “ I’d stake my life on it.” 
Cary choked a little as he retuJrned the grip. “You 
don’t need to. I’d prefer to stake mine.” Then he bolted, 
and the shop door closed behind him. 

Black looked up at the wide-open window over the shop 
he knew was Jane’s. “Sleep well, my friend,” he was 
thinking. “I told you I’d stand by you — to the limit.” 


CHAPTER X 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 


OM LOCKHART emerged from the stage dressing- 



-i- room in the uniform of a French soldier, his face made 
up with paint and powder and crayon to indicate that he 
was in the final stages of suffering from gunshot wounds. 
His head was bandaged, his clothes were torn, but he gave 
the lie to these signs of disaster by dashing up the stairs 
and into the wings of the stage with the lusty action of 
perfect health and a great zest for his part. 

Behind the big curtain he found all the actors in Cary’s 
play assembled — except one. The star — everybody had 
taken to calling Fanny Fitch the star throughout the re- 
hearsals — was still missing, quite after the manner of stars. 
It was yet early, and the audience in front was but half 
assembled, but Cary had laid great stress upon every- 
body’s being ready and in the wings before the curtain 
should rise. He had small faith in amateur call boys and 
prompters, and the action of the play was to take place 
so rapidly that nobody could be permitted to linger in a 
dressing-room once the piece was on. 

Cary greeted Tom as a laggard. Cary himself was a 
French officer — and looked the part to the life; but he was 
also a stage manager of martinet qualities. 

“About time, you boy! Where’s Miss Fitch Go 
back and get her. Hustle!” The whisper hissed above 
the tuning of the orchestra. 


153 


RED AND BLACK 


154 

Tom sped back downstairs. Red Pepper Burns, in the 
dress of an operating surgeon soiled and gory, his face made 
up to show lines of fatigue, commented in Nan Lockhart’s 
ear: “Trust Fanny to play the part off stage as well as 
on. Presume she’s reckoning on holding everything up 
till she gets here ? ” 

Nan frowned. “You never do her justice. Doctor 
Burns. Fanny’s a born actress, why shouldn’t she have 
the little sins of one.? But she’s going to surprise you to- 
night. She really can act, you know. She’s been only 
walking through rehearsals.” 

“All right — but she’ll have to get a lot more punch into 
her work than I can believe her capable of. Speaking 
of punch — I haven’t much left myself to-night,” growled 
Red. The fatigue suggested by the lines upon his face 
had .been easy to lay on, by the make-up man downstairs, 
who had had only to intensify those already there. As 
might easily have been prophesied by those who knew his 
life intimately. Red had just had a week of infernally hard 
work in the operating room, and was much fitter for a good 
night’s sleep than for playing the part of a first line 
surgeon on the French front. 

Robert Black, in the wings, was keeping in order a little 
group of children who were representing Belgian orphans — 
proteges of an Englishwoman who had come to France 
to help look after the refugees. Nan Lockhart had this 
part; it fitted her beautifully. Jane Ray was the Red 
Cross nurse in charge at the clearing station; her white 
uniform and glowing red veil brought out her dusky beauty 
of colouring strikingly. Three young American ambulance 
drivers — of whom Harry Perkins, the young usher at 
the Stone Church, was one — stood together in the wings, 
commenting favourably upon Miss Ray. Altogether, no- 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 155 

body was really doing anything but waiting when Tom 
Lockhart, grinning joyously through his queerly contrast- 
ing pallid make-up, at last followed Fanny Fitch upon 
the stage. 

She had refused to dress for the dress rehearsal of the 
preceding evening, explaining that her costume was as yet 
in the making. She had, quite as Nan had said, “walked 
through” her part and rather languidly, at that, in the 
street attire in which she had come to the little theatre 
which was the suburban town’s pride. So now, quite 
suddenly and startlingly, appeared to the view of her 
fellow actors the French actress of music-hall fame whom 
Fanny was to represent in the part which Cary, the mo- 
ment he had set eyes upon her — and, he might have added, 
found her eyes upon him — had declared would fit her like 
a glove. As Red and Ellen and Cary Ray and Robert 
Black now beheld the dazzling figure before them, there 
could be no question in their minds that if Miss Fitch 
could act the part as she now looked it, there would be 
nothing left to be desired. As for young Tommy Lock- 
hart, he was clearly quite out of his head with a crazy 
admiration which he did not even attempt to disguise. 
What was the use.? And must not all men be one with 
him in adoring this radiant creature? 

Fanny was a vision — there’s no use denying it. All 
that fairness of feature and provocation of eye enhanced 
by the cleverest art of the make-up box, and set off by 
daring line and colour of gown, could do to make her won- 
drous to look upon, had been achieved. All that a deep 
excitement, a complete confidence in what her mirror had 
told her, a surety of at least a measure of real histrionic 
power, could give in aid of the finished effect, was there. 
But as she came very quietly upon the stage there was 


RED AND BLACK 


156 

nothing at all in her bearing to indicate that she thought 
herself a form of delight, rather did she suggest that she 
was dreading her difficult role, and not at all confident 
that she could hope even to please the eye. Tom, indeed, 
could have sworn that this was so. Had he not held a 
brief but satisfying dialogue with her on the way upstairs ? 

‘‘Oh, Tom!’’ she had called, “is it really time to go on? 
I’m so frightened! Do you suppose I can ever do it as 
Mr. Ray wants it done? 

Tom, gazing his eyes out at her lovely shoulders, as she 
preceded him along the narrow corridor to the stairs, 
keeping her scarlet silken skirts well away from the walls — 
he helped her solicitously in that — answered in eager as- 
surance: “Why, of course you can! And — my word! — 
looking at you would be enough, if you couldn’t act at all. 

My word! I never saw you ” 

“Oh, but Tom, looking a part is nothing — and I’m not 
even sure I can do that. But acting it! That’s another 

story. And you’re so wonderful in yours ” 

“Me? Why, I just have to die! That’s easy!” 

“But you do it so realistically — you’re absolutely true 
to life. When I bend over you — yes, I do feel that you’re 

actually my brother, and my heart Well, if that can 

help, you do help me. And I’ll do my best. But — I’m 
simply scared to pieces. Feel my hand, it’s freezing!” 
She stretched back one bare arm, and Tom willingly caught 
her hand in his. His own was so cold it is doubtful if he 
could have detected chill in hers, but he held it fast, chaf- 
ing it in both his own, and murmuring tenderly: “You’ll 
be all right, I know you will. Why, you’ll have the aud- 
ience from the minute you go on — they can’t get away 
from you — any more than I can ! ” The last was a whisper. 
Fanny turned. They were at the top of the stairway 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 157 

now, with the wings close at hand. “Tom, tell me! Do 
you really think I can do it? Will you just keep thinking 
about me every minute while you’re lying there?” She 
pressed one hand over her heart with a little gesture of fear 
which simply finished Tom. “Oh, if it would stop beat- 
ing so fast ” 

Tom slipped his arm about her shoulders. “Don’t 
be afraid, dear,” was what he began to say. But she 
was away from him in an instant, and he could only recall 
with tingling pulses that instant’s touch in which at least 
two of his fingers had come into fleeting contact with the 
satiny bare arm. The next minute he had rallied and 
rushed after her upon the stage, to watch with a jealous 
pleasure the looks which fell upon her from all sides. 

At sight of the “star” Cary Ray came forward. All he 
said was, “I’m mighty glad you’re here. Miss Fitch. 
Real actresses never can be depended upon, you know — 
and you certainly look temperamental enough to give 
your stage manager some trouble!” But his eyes and his 
smile said that he was well satisfied with her as a member 
of his caste, and that as a girl of his acquaintance he was 
immensely glad he knew her. There was promise in 
Cary’s look as well. All Fanny had to do now was to play 
that part as she knew she could play it, and Cary Ray 
would fall before her. Going out to take a drink, after 
the play should be over — the thing he would naturally 
want most to do — would pale into insignificance before 
the stimulus she could offer him, if she but let him take 
her home and come in for an hour’s talk and coffee by the 
fire. 

But Tom Lockhart and Cary Ray were not the stakes 
for which Fanny Fitch meant to play that night. There 
was a tall figure in the wings of which she was well aware, 


RED AND BLACK 


* 158 ' 

and though she did not look toward it she was very sure 
that Robert Black was watching her. How, indeed, could 
he do anything else.? Belgian orphans, ambulance drivers, 
French officers, Englishwomen, Red Cross nurses — how 
could they all be anything but a background for the lovely 
‘^star?*’ Does not the eye watch the point of high light 
m any scene.? 

And then they were all in their places. Cary rushed about 
giving last warnings, the orchestra music dropped to a low 
murmur of mystery,^ and the curtain rose. Black, with 
a last word to the waiting children, slipped out of the wings, 
down the stairs, up through the orchestra door, and into 
a seat held for him by a group of young men who were 
now his special friends. It was Cary’s expressed wish that 
he should see the play frorpi the front, and then come back, 
with the falling of the curtain, to tell the amateur actor- 
manager how it had gone. 

No need to relate the whole story of the play. It is 
not with the stage performance that we are most con- 
cerned, but with that other play, quite out of sight of the 
audience in the little theatre that night, which is to us 
more interesting than the scenes they acted behind the 
footlights. The stage play dealt with one of those thrill- 
ing situations with which we have all since then, through 
printed page and photograph and drama, become familiar. 
We know now how those who went across to help, months 
— a year — two years — before America came into the 
war, felt about us who lagged behind. The young Amer- 
ican ambulance drivers who left their colleges and rushed 
over because they couldn’t stand it that we weren’t re- 
membering our debt to France, and who threw themselves 
and all they had to give into the breach, angry and proud 
and absolutely forgetful of self, julst to do their little part — 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 159 

these had Cary pictured in his play, chafing with impa- 
tience because they couldn’t make all America understand 
and care. The American girl whose schooldays had been 
spent in Paris, who had many friends there, and who 
wanted to put aside everything promised her at home and 
go back to the country she had learned to love, to nurse 
the Frenchmen who since the war began had taught her 
what true gallantry might be — Cary had sketched her in 
his rarest colours, a thing of beauty and of love, her heart 
as tender as her spirit was dauntless. 

There was the American surgeon, come over at first 
because he wanted to study the methods of the French 
and English surgeons, but staying out of sheer pity, and 
grimly working now to the last limit of his endurance, 
unwilling to desert while the need was so great, calling 
with every eloquent word he could find time to write back 
to his brothers in the profession to come and help him stay 
the flood of suffering. Drivers and nurses and doctors — 
these were the characters whom Cary had chosen with 
which to make his appeal to the laggard nation of us at 
home. 

The Englishwoman, the Belgian mother with her little 
starving children, the French officer, the dying French 
poilu — these were the foils for the actress, torn from her 
stage by^ a message brought by one of the American 
ambulance men to the hospital that her brother was 
passing. It was her part to create the scene with which 
to stir the blood, hers to cry to the French officer: “Why 
are the Americans not here to prevent his dying? Did 
not our Lafayette and his men go to them at their call? 
Does America owe us nothing, then? See, he is only a 
boy — too young to die! Could they not have made it 
impossible?” 


i6o RED AND BLACK 

Well, Fanny did it gloriously. All that had gone before 
led up to her entrance, her gorgeous fur-lined cloak slipping 
from her shoulders, her eyes imploring surgeon and nurses 
to say that the boy was not yet gone. When she fell upon 
her knees beside the cot where lay the limp figure of the 
brother she was a figure to draw every eye and thought. 
All the colour, all the light of the scene seemed to centre 
in her, the bare hospital ward and the people in it turning 
instantly to a dull background for her extravagant beauty, 
her enchanting outlines, her anguish of spirit, her heroic 
effort — after that one accusing cry — at composure. It 
was impossible not to say that here was amateur acting 
of a remarkable and compelling sort. If the pounding 
heartbeats of the supposedly dying soldier under his torn 
uniform might have been taken as an index of the pulses 
of the audience, the general average must have been that 
of high acceleration under the spell of Caryls art and 
Fanny’s cleverness. 

Could it be called more than cleverness ? Robert Black 
was wondering, as he watched her from down in front. 
Of course he watched her, he would have been hardly 
human if he had not, or if he had not also come, for the 
moment, at least, under her spell. Cleverness or real 
dramatic power — it was difficult to judge, as it is always 
difficult when the eyes are irresistibly attracted by fas- 
cination of face and form. In her dress Fanny had copied 
to the life the extravagantly revealing outlines of a certain 
daring and popular vaudeville actress. When Nan Lock- 
hart had suggested that for the conservative American 
suburb a trifle less frank a showing might be better taste 
Fanny had laughed and shrugged her shoulders, and said 
she didn’t intend to spoil the part by prudery. She vowed 
that Cary Ray was the sort who would be furious with 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS i6i 

her If she came to his stage looking like a modest maiden 
on her day of graduation from school! “He’s no infant 
prodigy,” she had added, “he’s a full-grown man-genius, 
and I’m going to play up to him. Just watch me get 
away with it!” 

She was getting away with It. Even Nan — who had 
wanted to shake her from the moment of her first entrance 
with that effect of being shyly reluctant to appear at all — 
had to admit that Fanny had the audience in the hollow 
of her pretty hand, not to mention the male portion of her 
fellow actors, and, yes, even herself, as well. It was im- 
possible for Nan not to be fond of Fanny, and to forgive 
her many of her sins, because of her personal charm and her 
originality of speech and action. Whatever else she was, 
no doubt but Fanny was always interesting. Generous 
Nan was more than glad to have her friend distinguish 
herself to-night, and looked on from her own unexacting 
role, with a full pride in Fanny’s achievement. 

There arrived a moment In the play, however, when to 
the discerning there came a sudden shifting of the honours. 
It was almost at the last, when the scourging Indictment 
of the French actress had reached its height. It was then, 
when the silence following her bitter cry had continued till 
it had become painful, that the ambulance drivers and 
the surgeon and nurse one by one came forward, till they 
had surrounded the weeping Frenchwoman. Then the 
nurse touched her on the shoulder: 

“Madame,” she said, “see. JVe are Americans!” 

The actress looked up. The youngest of the drivers 
was bending a little toward her — a tall, slim boy, with his 
left sleeve torn, a long cut down his cheek. 

“It’s a damned shame!” he said. 

The other drivers clenched their fists, murmuring fierce 


RED AND BLACK 


162 

assent. The surgeon drew his hand across his tired eyes — ■ 
one could see that they were blurred. The nurse, her eyes 
deep and wonderful with pity, put her arm about the bare, 
shaking shoulders: 

“America will come,” she said — and her eyes seemed 
to look across the sea. “She must come — and when she 
does ” 

“Too late — for him!” The actress’s hand pointed ac- 
cusingly at the still form on the cot. 

“Yes, too late for him. Too late for much — but not 
too late for all. Meanwhile, Madame — we are here — 
and we care!** 

“You bet we do!” It was the youngest driver. 

“Your brother was a peach of a chap,” declared another, 
and gently the audience down in front smiled while it wiped 
its eyes. 

“A peasch ? ” F anny’s little puzzled accent was perfect. 

“A hero, Madame — the bravest of the brave, ” the nurse 
explained. 

“Then — I am content!” The gesture was superb. 
The glittering eyes of the actress looked out over the 
audience, then lowered suddenly, to rest for one instant 
on Robert Black. It was an error, and a fatal one, if to 
nobody but him. Up to that moment she had had him — 
at that moment she lost him as an enthralled spectator. 
The little self-conscious action broke the spell she had 
woven. His gaze left her and rested upon Jane. And 
there it found — what made him say to himself, suddenly 
enraged with his own lack of discrimination: 

“Have I forgotten to watch you — in watching her? 
Shame on me! She’s only acting. You are — real!** 

His eyes, through the remaining moments of the play, 
never again left Jane. Now that the dazzling light no 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 163 

/onger blinded his vision he could see the beauty which had 
needed neither over-enhancing make-up nor ravishing 
costume to set it forth. In the plain white of the nurse’s 
dress, with the nun-like head-veil so trying in its austerity, 
her face full of the exquisite compassion which is the hall- 
mark of the profession, Jane was now for him the central 
figure. And when the actress had left the stage, the cot 
with its still figure had been removed, and the five Ameri- 
cans had returned for their final scene, the simple human- 
ness of it somehow ‘^got over,” as the phrase is, so com- 
pletely that in its own way it far outshone the splendour 
of the tragedy that had preceded it. And this was the 
sure mark of Cary’s art, that he had dared to close with 
this. 

“The thing that gets me” — it was the youngest am- 
bulance driver again — “is how the devil we’re ever going to 
make ’em see it back home — till it’s too late, same as she 
said.” 

The tired surgeon lifted his head. “I would go home 
and make some speeches,” he said, “if I could get away. 
But if I go — who’ll do my job here?” 

“It will take ten men,” said the nurse, simply. 

He looked at her, and his grim smile touched his lips. 
“Twenty nurses to fill your little shoes,” he retorted. 

Little shoes?” The second ambulance driver looked 
down at them. “They are darned little, but it would take 
twenty nurses, at that!” 

“America’s got to come!” spoke the third driver — a 
fair-haired boy with a fresh, tanned face. “Gee, she’s gor 
to come, or I’ll turn Frenchman, for one. I can’t stand 
it any longer. Money and munitions — and food — that’s 
what they write — and we ought to be satisfied. Satisfied! 
Men — why don’t they send men? Why don’t they come 


RED AND BLACK 


164 

— millions of ’em! Oh, it’s hell to have to be ashamed of 
your own country!” 

‘‘She will come!” It was the nurse. She stood up. 
Her eyes looked out again across the seas. “I see her 
coming.” She stretched out her arms. Behind her the 
four men, the tired surgeon and the boyish ambulance 
drivers, lifted their heads* and stretched out their arms, 
too. The girl’s voice rang out: 

“O America! — Come — before it is forever too late!” 

The curtain fell. A murmur came from the audience — 
the delayed applause rose, and rose again —then died away. 
People got up, some triumphant, some uncertainly smiling, 
others dark of brow. The young men beside Black were 
aflame with the fire of that last challenge; their eyes looked 
as if they were seeing new and strange things. When he 
could get away from them Black pulled himself together, 
dived through the orchestra door and came upon the 
stage. He went first to Jane Ray. 

“Will you let me take you home when you are ready?” 
he asked, very low. “I’ll tell you — then.” 

She nodded and turned away. He had seen her eyes — 
they plainly showed that they had been wet with tears. 

He shook hands with Cary Ray, who smiled at him, 
and spoke rather deliriously. “We put it over, didn’t 
we? You don’t have to tell me. I can read the human 
countenance. Are you going to start across to-night — 
or will morning do?” 

“You gripped us all, Cary. Don’t expect me to talk 
about it — ^just yet.” 

“All right — that’s enough. Here’s the girl who did 
the trick.” And he put out his hands to Fanny Fitch. 

Only Nan could have told how Fanny had done it, but 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 165 

somehow already she had managed to get rid of so much 
of her make-up as was intended to reach across the foot- 
lights, and that which remained was not so perceptible 
that it made her look the painted lady. She was a siren 
now, was Fanny, and a dangerously happy one. The 
effect of her had become that of a radiant girl who enjoys 
a well-earned triumph, of which the great masses of orchids 
and roses she was now carrying were the fitting sign. 

“You scored a great success,” said Robert Black. He 
was not afraid now to look at Fanny at close range; there 
had been one moment in the play when he had thought he 
might well be afraid, realizing acutely that he was only 
human, after all, and had no stronger defenses than other 
men. His glance met hers coolly. “I congratulate you 
very heartily.” 

“Oh, Fm glad you liked me,” she answered, and her 
voice was thrillingly low. “It means so much to me — to 
please you! I was afraid I could never do that — your dis- 
crimination is so fine. You would have known if I had 
not really felt the part. I did — it seemed to me I simply 
lived in that French actress’s body. It was a tremendous 
experience really. I can never, never forget it.” 

“Wasn’t she glorious?” Cary’s tense voice broke in. 
He had not moved away. “I believe I must have written 
the thing for her without ever having seen her. But 
I’ve seen her now!” His fiery gaze devoured her, his thin 
cheek flushed more deeply than before. Suddenly Black 
was acutely aware of a new source of anxiety for Cary. 
What would Fanny Fitch do with him, he wondered. 
“Listen,” Cary went on hurriedly. “I’m going to have a 
bit of a supper over at the hotel — this event has got to be 
celebrated somehow. I’ve had Tom telephone over, and 
they’ll get a few eats and things together for us in a hurry. 


i66 


RED AND BLACK 


Anyhow, we can work olF a little of the high pressure that 
way — and it’s got to be worked off, or a maniac like me 
can’t keep his head till morning. You’ll join us, of course, 
Mr. Black?” 

“I’ll go over, and take your sister, but I can’t stay. 
You won’t need me — and I haven’t been an actor, so I’m 
naturally not in on it. Thank you just the same, Cary.” 

“Sure thing you’re in on it — nobody more so — ^we won’t 
let you off. Nail him for me, will you. Miss Fitch?” and 
Cary rushed away. 

“Why, it will be no celebration at all without you!” 
breathed Fanny Fitch, with a glance which would certainly 
have turned Tom Lockhart crazy. Black felt himself 
proof against it, even though his eyes told him that it was 
worth getting if a man had a taste for that sort of thing. 
She went on quickly: “You won’t make us — I don’t 
mind saying you won’t make me, personally — so 
unhappy?” * 

“I’m sure you won’t be that. Miss Fitch, with all your 
fellow actors to tell you how skillful your acting was.” 

“Skillfull Oh, but I don’t like that word!” 

“Why not? All acting means skill, doesn’t it?” 

“But — if you didn’t see more than that in it — I shall 
be dreadfully hurt, Mr. Black. I meant to put — my 
heart into it! It was such a wonderful play — it deserved 
no less than that, did it?” 

“No less. And had no less from you all, I think.” 

“Oh, they were all splendid!” agreed Fanny, rallying 
instantly to this call. “Miss Ray was perfect, especially. 
Of course she had the glorious advantage of the last word — 
and how effectively she used it! There was skill for you, 
indeed. I didn’t know Miss Ray was so clever!” 

“That’s generous of you,” said Black — and if there was 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 167 

only a half- veiled irony in his tone now, Fanny didn’t 
recognize it. The ambulance drivers were hovering close, 
waiting for their chance. Black got away at length, and 
it was with a curious sense of contentment that he lis- 
tened to something Mrs. Red Pepper Burns was saying 
as he passed her: “Each one took his or her part tell- 
ingly, but of course the honours rest with Miss Ray. 
She didn’t act, she was that American girl summoning 
us all. I can hear that last call yet!” 

“My jolly, so can I!” Red’s lips shut together in a 
tight line. 

Black now did his best managing. He wasn’t specially 
good at it, it being rather a new part for him to play, 
where women were concerned. He was much more ac- 
customed to maneuvering to escape a too persistent en- 
couragement of his society than deliberately to planning 
to get somebody to himself. His idea just now was that 
if he could only take Jane away before the rest had started 
for the hotel, a few blocks down the street, he might secure 
the short walk with her alone. He had discovered that it 
was raining, one of those late March rains which melt 
the lingering snow from the streets, the air mild, the sug- 
gestion of coming spring hinting strongly in the very feel 
of the air. Cary was announcing that motors would soon 
be at hand to take everybody — he wanted them all to re- 
main in costume, just for fun. Black must be quick now 
if he would secure the thing he found he wanted very much 
indeed. 

“Miss Ray, don’t you want to walk instead of ride? 
I warn you that it’s raining, but wouldn’t the walk be good 
for you, after all this heat and strain?” 

Jane turned to him. She had put on a long belted coat 
over her white uniform; she still wore her nurse’s veil-cap. 


i68 RED AND BLACK 

‘^Oh, yes!” she answered, quickly. ‘‘It’s just what 1 
want most.” 

“Then come — now, if you can. I’ll tell Tom to explain 
to your brother. He’ll forgive us — he’ll forgive anything 
to-night.” 

They slipped away, and only Red’s quick eye saw them 
go. He said nothing to anybody — ^wBy should he.^ He 
knew Robert Black too well, by now, not to understand 
why he felt like getting away, and not to be entirely in 
sympathy with his wanting to go with Jane Ray. He felt 
like that himself — he didn’t want to go to anybody’s 
supper party. But he knew that Cary must be allowed 
to let down gradually to-night, and he knew that he was 
the one to stand by, as he meant to do. Black had done 
it far oftener than he. 

Down in the street, with the first touch of the wet, mild 
air upon her hot cheek, Jane drew a long, refreshed breath. 

“Oh, that’s so good,” she said. 

“Isn’t it? Somehow I knew it was what you needed 
after that. Do you know what you did to us?” 

“I don’t know what I did to anybody,” she said, “ex- 
cept myself.” 

“/ know.” 

They walked in silence, after these few words, for a full 
block. Black held the umbrella low — it was a large um- 
brella, and sheltered them both very well. He had offered 
Jane his arm — it is difficult for two people to keep suffi- 
ciently close together under an umbrella not to get wet 
unless one takes the other’s arm. She had not taken it, 
but she had gripped a fold of cloth on the under part of 
his sleeve, and this held her securely in place. He could 
just feel that slightest of contacts, and it ga^"^ him an odd 
sense of comradeship. 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 


169 

The silence was grateful to them both, as silence may be 
between two people each of whom understands a good 
deal of what the other is thinking. When Jane broke it, 
at the end of the second block, it was with an unconscious 
security that she could go on from where she had left 
ofF, without explaining the gap. 

‘TVe got to go,” she said, in a tense voice. ‘T knew 
that, when I took the part, or I couldn’t have dared to take 
it.” 

‘T knew you must be feeling that way. I understand. 
So am I.” 

She looked up quickly. “Oh! Shall you go?” 

“Of course.” 

“At once?” 

“I am in a sense bound to my church — until my first 
year here is up, at least. It will be up in April. If war 
isn’t declared by that time I shall go, whether the church 
is willing to send me or not.” 

“I can’t wait,” said Jane, “till America is in, unless she 
is in before I can get away. Cary can’t, either. He is 
going to try to get a berth at once, as correspondent for his 
old paper. He has sent them this play — it ought to 
show them that he is — at work again and that — ^his brain 
is clear. He’s physically pretty fit now, I think.” 

“That’s great. And how will you go?” 

“I don’t know yet — I’ll find a way. All I know is, I 
can’t stand it another day not to be getting ready. 
There’ll be some place for me — there must be.” 

“I don’t question it.” He looked down at that sweet, 
sturdy profile outlined now against the many lights of the 
«mall downtown park they were passing. “Yes, they’ll 
find a place for you. I wish I could be as sure of the one I 
want.” 


RED AND BLACK 


170 

“You?’’ Jane looked quickly up at him, and their eyes 
met. “You want a commission?” 

“Yes. I want a chaplaincy.” 

“Oh!” Her tone showed deep disappointment. “I 
knew you were all on fire about the war, but I did think 
you ” 

“Would want a bigger job?” 

“Yes!” 

“I don’t know of any,” he said, steadily. 

“How can you feel that way — how can you? A chap- 
lain doesn’t bear arms — doesn’t go to the front — stays in 

safe places ” Her fingers let go of his sleeve, she 

walked alone. 

“The sort of chaplain I mean,” said Black — with a bit- 
ing sense of injury at his heart — “does bear arms. He 
does go to the front. He never stays in safe places if 
he can by any chance get out of them. Will you please — 
take that back? I don’t think I can bear it — from 
you.” 

She looked up at him again, and again he looked down 
at her. She saw the pain in his eyes, saw the virility in 
his lean, strong face, the way his jaw set and his lips com- 
pressed themselves in the line that speaks determination, 
and was ashamed — and convinced. 

“I take it back,” she said. “You couldn’t be anything 
but a fighting man wherever they put you. I ought to 
know, by the way you have fought for my brother. For- 
give me.” 

He was silent for a minute. Then he said slowly: 
“The next time you come on a list of citations for dis- 
tinguished bravery, over there, would you mind reading 
it carefully? And when you come to a chaplain’s name, 
notice what he did to deserve it. That’s all I ask.” 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 171 

‘T’m sorry,” Jane said softly. ‘T suppose I don’t know 
the facts.” 

‘T imagine you don’t, Miss Ray.” 

‘‘You’re still angry with me. I can’t blame you.” 

“I’m not angry. But I do care that the splendid fellows 
over there who wear the cross on the collar of their tunic 
should never be spoken of as if they were looking for safe 
places. If I can take my place among them I’ll want no 
higher honour — and no more dangerous work than they 
take upon themselves.” 

Jane’s fingers laid hold of the fold of his coat-sleeve 
again. She bit her lip. Then she said gently: 

“I asked to be forgiven. Isn’t it a part of your office 
to forgive the repentant.?” 

He was staring straight ahead, and this time it was she 
who looked at a profile; stern and hard she thought it for 
a minute. Then the set lips relaxed, and a deep breath 
came through them. “I seem to care too much what you 
think,” he acknowledged. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose, 
what you do think. Never mind.” 

“But I’ve apologized.” 

“You haven’t changed your feeling about it. I’m not 
looking for a personal apology. It’s all right. Tell me — 
when do you think you can get off?” 

Jane stopped short. The pair were in a side street, 
and there were no pedestrians upon it within a considerable 
distance. “Mr. Robert Black,” she said, “I’ll not go 
another foot with you till you are friends with me again.” 

“Friends with you?” He seemed to consider the ques- 
tion. “Having once been your friend — how can I ever 
be anything else — unless you tell me I can’t be? But 
even friends can — fail to see.” 

“I don’t fail to see. I see very clearly — quite suddenly. 


RED AND BLACK 


172 

And — if we are both going over, in the same cause, we 
must keep on being friends. I think — ’’Jane’s voice 
held a peculiar vibration — “I think, before I am through 
with it, I may be very glad to have — a chaplain — for a 
friend!” 

Robert Black looked at her steadily for a moment. His 
lips broke into a smile; she could see his splendid white 
teeth between the pleasant lines. “Ah, you do make full 

amends!” he admitted. “I — shall we ” Then he 

glanced up and down the street. He began to laugh. 
“Where is that hotel?” he queried. 

Jane’s eyes scanned the street corners ahead and be- 
hind them. “I think we’ve gone by it,” she said, with 
mirth. 

“Then — let’s go a little farther by. Do you mind? 
Mayn’t we go to that big building down there, before we 
turn around? It’s not raining so very hard now. I hate 
to take leave of you — ^just yet. It seems a poor place to 
stop — ^when we’ve just got back to — the place we started 
at.” 

“And what was the place we started at?” She let him 
take her forward again. He was walking more and more 
slowly. It looked as if a good deal of time might possibly 
be consumed before they should reach the designated 
building and then retrace their steps to the patiently wait- 
ing hotel. 

“The place where we were both going to war. Do you 
realize what a meeting ground that is?” 

She nodded. “It is — quite a meeting ground. It 

seems to ” she hesitated. He repeated the words 

with the rising inflection. She shook her head. 

“I can finish it for you,” he said. “It seems to — set us 
apart, just a little — from the rest. At least — till they say 


A SHIFTING OF HONOURS 


173 

they are going, too. Some of them will say that very soon. 
Till they do — do you mind being — in a little clear space — 
just with me — and with this big thing ahead to talk about 
together?” 

It was a minute before Jane answered. When she did. 
It was in the frankest, sweet way that she said straight- 
forwardly, ‘‘No, I don’t mind, Mr. Black. I think I — 
rather like it. You see, you’re not — poor company!” 

Though they went on from there on that note of frank 
friendliness, finished the walk, came finally to the hotel, 
parted with the simplest sort of comradely good-night, 
there could be no question that the bond between them, 
till now established wholly on the basis of Black’s friend- 
ship for Cary, had become something which was from Cary 
quite apart. Whatever it was, it took Robert Black a 
good three miles of walking alone in a rain which had all 
at once become a downpour to think it out, and wonder, 
with a quickening of the pulses, where it led. 


CHAPTER XI 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 


ET a fellow in? Oh — sorry! Did I wake you up?’”' 



^ Black looked up, dazedly. It struck him that 
Red didn’t appear particularly sorry, in spite of his brusque 
apology. The red-headed doctor stood just within the 
minister’s study door, bearing all the appearance of one 
who comes on the wings of some consuming enthusiasm. 

Black pushed a number of sheets of closely written paper 
under a convenient magazine. He ran his hand across 
his forehead, thrusting back dark locks more or less in dis- 
array. His eyes were undeniably heavy. 

“Come in — do! Have a seat. Let me take your coat.’^ 
“Thanks. You look in the dumps. Somebody been 
flaying you alive?” 

Black smiled a little wanly. “No. I rather wish they 
had. It might give me something to think about. What 
is it? You are full of some news — I can see that. Did 
you do me the honour of coming to tell me about iti” 

Red laughed. “That’s like you. Anybody else would 
have left me to get around to it gradually, if he’d even 
noticed that I seemed to be bursting with news. Well, I 
am. And I had to blow off to somebody right now. Saw 
your light and knew you were mulling over some self-ap- 
pointed task at this unholy hour. Thought it would prob- 
ably be good for you to turn your attention to a fellow- 
sufferer.” 


174 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 


175 

Black’s sombre eyes rested intently on Red’s face. Red 
had thrown his hat upon one chair, his motoring coat upon 
another, and had seated himself astride o-f a straight and 
formal manse chair, facing its back. His face was deeply 
flushed; his eyes held all manner of excited lights. 

‘‘You’re no sufferer,” was Black’s decision. “What is 
it? You’re not — off for the war?” 

“You’ve got it. That’s exactly what I am. Had a 
cable half an hour ago from my friend Leaver at the Amer- 
ican Hospital at N . He says come along as fast as 

I can get there. He can use me, or have me sent to the front 
line, as I prefer. If Jack Leaver says come, that settles it. 
I’ll go as quick as I can get my affairs in order, take my 
physical tests, have my inoculations, and put through my 
passports. How’s that?” 

“ It’s great. Of course you’ll get to the front as fast as 
possible — I know you. I congratulate you — heartily.” 
Black got up and came over, his hand out. Red seized it. 
He hung onto it, looking up into Black’s face. 

“Come on, too!” he challenged. 

“I wish I could. I can’t — yet.” 

Red dropped the hand — or would have dropped it if it 
had not been withdrawn before he had the chance. He 
scowled. 

“Why not?” 

“Because I can’t get the place I want till war is declared 
and we begin to send men. I’ll wait for that.” 

“That means months, even if Congress loses no more 
time.” 

“You know better. Our regulars will go mighty soon 
after we declare war. I’ll find my place with them.” 

“And what’s the place you want?” 

Black looked at him steadily. “You know, don’t you?” 


RED AND BLACK 


176 

Red nodded, grimly. “ I suppose I do. Tom told me — 
but I wouldn’t believe it. Look here, man! Give up that 
fool notion that you’ve got to stick to your cloth, and go 
in for a man’s job. Come over with me and enlist in one 
of your Scottish regiments — that’s the place for you. 
Then j’^ou’ll see the real thing. You’ve got the stuff in 
you.” 

Black’s face was going slowly white. ‘‘I’m an American. 
When I go I’m going as chaplain of an American regi- 
ment.” 

“Oh, wnat damned rot!” 

Red Pepper Bums was powerfully overwrought, or he 
wouldn’t have said it. The next instant he realized what 
he had said, for the lithe figure before him had straightened 
and stiffened as if Red had brought the flat of his hand 
against the other man’s cheek. At the same instant a 
voice cold with wrath said with a deadly quiet command 
in the ring of it: “Take that back. Doctor Burns.” 

“I take back the word, if you like — but not the thought. 
I can’t do that. A chaplaincy isn’t a man’s job — not a 
young man’s job. Plenty of old priests and middle-aged 
parsons to look after the dying. A' good right arm like 
yours should carry a rifle. I’d rather see you stay out of 
it altogether than go in for the army-cut petticoats of 
your profession.” 

Then indeed Red saw a strange sight. He had seen 
many men angry in his time; he now saw one angrier than 
he would have believed possible without an outburst of 
profanity. Black grew so pale he might have been going 
to faint if the glitter in his black eyes hadn’t told the tale 
of a vitality which was simply taking it out that w^ay in- 
stead of by showing red, as most men do. He opened his 
lips once and closed them again. He raised his right hand 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 


177 

and slowly clenched it, looking down at it, while Red 
watched him curiously. At last he spoke, in a strange, 
low voice, still looking at that right hand of his: 

“I never wanted anything in my life so much as to 
knock you down — for that,” he said; and then his eyes 
went from his clenched fist to look straight into Red’s. 

“Why don’t you do it? I give you leave. It was an. 
insult — I admit it — the second one. But I don’t take it 
back. It’s what I think — honestly. If you don’t like it, 
it’s up to you to prove yourself of a different calibre.” 

Red still sat astride of his chair, watching Black, whose 
gaze had gone back to that right hand of his. He opened 
and closed it again — and once more, and then he spoke. 

“Doctor Burns,” he said, slowly, “I don’t think I have 
to take this sort of thing from you — and I don’t think I 
will.” He walked over to his study door, opened it, and 
stood there waiting, like a figure cut out of stone. Red 
leaped to his feet, his own eyes snapping. 

“By jolly!” he shouted, seizing his hat and coat. “I 
don’t have to be shown the door twice!” And he strode 
across the floor. As he came up to Black the two pairs of 
eyes met again. Anything sadder than the look now in 
Black’s, overriding his anger. Red never had seen. It 
almost made him pause — not quite. He went along out 
and the door closed quietly behind him. 

In the hall a plump, middle-aged figure was coming to- 
ward him. Anxiety was written large on Mrs. Hodder’s 
austerely motherly face. He would have gone by her 
with a nod, but she put out a hand to stop him, and spoke 
in a whisper: 

“I hope, Doctor, you cheered him up a little. Poor 
man — I never saw him so down.” 

Red grunted. “No — I’m afraid I didn^t cheer him up 


178 RED AND BLACK 

much,” he admitted, gruffly. “He wasn’t in any mood 
to be cheered.” 

“No, indeed. A body can’t get over such news as he 
had to-day in a hurry. He hasn’t eat a mouthful since he 
heard.” 

“What?” Red paused, in the very act of pushing on 
past her detaining hand. “Bad news, you say?” 

“Why, yes — rdidn’t he tell you? He told me. Two of 
his sister’s sons are killed — and she only had three, and all 
in this awful war. Killed almost together, they were. 
He showed me their pictures — the likeliest looking boys — 
one looks something like Mr. Black himself. Why, I 
can’t think why he didn’t tell you, and him so terrible cut 
up about it.” 

Red wheeled, and looked back at the closed study door. 
He looked again at Mrs. Hodder. “ I’m glad you told me,” 
he said almost under his breath. “I think I’ll — go back.” 

He went back, pausing a minute at the door before he 
opened it. Then he turned the knob softly, ^s if a very 
sick patient were lying within. He went in noiselessly, 
as doctors do, his eyes upon the figure seated again at the 
desk, its head down upon its folded arms. He crossed 
over to the desk, and laid his hand on Black’s right arm. 

“I’m sorry, lad,” he said. “I didn’t know.” 

Black raised his head, and now Red’s eyes saw what they 
had not seen before — the ravages of a real grief. The red- 
headed doctor was the possessor of rather the largest 
heart known to man, and it was that heart which now took 
command of his words and acts. 

“I didn’t know, Black,” Red repeated. 

“How do you know now?” 

“Mrs. Hodder told me. A curse on me for hitting you 
when you were down.” 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 179 

After a minute Black's hand reached for the thin sheets 
of closely written paper 'which he had pushed under the 
magazine when Red had first entered. He looked them 
over rapidly, then pointed to a paragraph. Red scanned 
it as quickly as the unfamiliar handwriting would permit. 
As he read he gave a low ejaculation or two, eloquent of 
the impression made upon him. 

“You may be proud of them,” he said, heartily. “And 
— they were of your blood. I don't think I need question 
its virility. I guess I’d best leave it to you to decide what's 
your course — and not butt in with my snap judgments.” 

Black looked up. “Thank you. Doctor Burns,” he 
said, “for coming back.” 

“Forget what I said — will you?” 

“I don't think I can — right away. It doesn’t matter.'^ 

“It does matter — ^when you're down and out with get- 
ting a letter like that. If I hadn't been so hot with my own 
affairs I’d have seen for myself something'd happened.” 

“It's all right. Doctor.” Black rose wearily. “Some 
day I'm going to make you think differently. Until 
then — perhaps we’ll do better not to talk about it. I'm 
glad you're going — I envy you. Let's let it go at that, 
for to-night.” 

Red held out his hand. “You’ll shake hands?” 

“Of course.” 

Somehow as he went away Red was feeling sorrier than 
he would have believed possible that anything had hap- 
pened to make that handshake what he had felt it — a 
purely formal and perfunctory one. Why had he said 
those blamed mean things to Black about his profession, 
he wondered. Confound his red head and his impudent 
tongue! He liked Robert Black, liked him a lot, and better 
and better all the time; trusted him, too — he realized 


i8o RED AND BLACK 

that. He had rushed into the manse study to-night from 
a genuine impulse to tell his good news to the man from 
whom he was surest of understanding and sympathy with 
his own riotous joy over his great luck in getting the chance 
to go across. And then he’d had to go and cut the fellow 
where he was already wide open with his own private sorrow ! 
If there had been any way in which Red could have 
made it up to his friend — ^yes, Black had become his friend, 
no doubt of it, to rather an unanticipated degree — if there 
had been any way in which he could have made it up to 
him, taken the sting out of the hard words, and sent the 
“lad” to bed feeling that somebody besides his house- 
keeper cared that he was unhappy — ^well. Red would have 
given considerable, as he went away, to have done 
that thing. But there wasn’t any way. There hardly 
ever is. 

If he had known just what he left behind him, in that 
manse study, undoubtedly Red would have been sorrier 
yet — if he could have fully understood it. It is possible 
that he could not just have understood, not having been 
made of quite the same fibre as the other man. What he 
would have understood, if he had chanced to see Black at 
about the third watch of the night, would have been that 
he was passing through some experience more tremendous 
than that which any loss of kin could possibly have brought 
him. The facts in the case were that, all unwittingly. Red 
Pepper Burns, with a few hasty words, had brought upon 
Robert Black the darkest hours he thus far had had to live 
through. 

It tackled him shortly after Red had left — the thought 
which would not down — or, rather, the first of the two 
thoughts, for there were two with which he had to wrestle 
that long April night. It leaped at him suddenly, that 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 


x8i 

first thought, and in an instant, it had him by the throat. 
Why not admit that Red was right, that the average 
chaplaincy in the army or navy was a soft, safe job, and 
not an honoured one at all ? Why not let everything else 
go, resign his church, go back to Scotland, look up men 
of influence he knew there, and try for a commission? 
Why not? Why not Why not? 

Would that mean that he would leave the ministry — 
permanently? More than likely it would. Well, what if 
it did? Could anything be better worth doing now than 
offering his life in the Great War? Why stay here, preach- 
ing flaming sentiment to a congregation who mostly 
thought him overwrought upon the whole subject? Why 
stay here, holding futile committee meetings, arguing 
ways and means with hard-headed business men who 
were everlastingly thinking him visionary and impractical? 
Why go on calling on old ladies and sick people — christen- 
ing babies — reading funeral services — marrying people 
who would more than likely be better single? Why go on 
with the whole round of parish work, he, a man of military 
age, a crack shot — he had not spent all those years in the 
South for nothing! — possessed of a strong right arm, a 
genius for leadership — when an older man could do all 
these things for these people, and release him for work an 
older man couldn’t do? And if he were free 

Yes, it was here that his second temptation got in its 
startling work. If he were free — he would be free to do 
as other men did: marry a wife without regard to her 
peculiar fitness to be — a minister’s wife! It wouldn’t 
make any difference, then, if she never went to church, 
had no interest in any of the forms of religious life, didn’t 
read her Bible — didn’t even say her prayers when she went 
to bed — didn’t do anything orthodox — as he was pretty 


i 82 


RED AND BLACK 


sure somebody he knew didn’t. What did all that matter, 
anyhow, so her heart was clean — as he knew it was! 

Black pushed his revolving chair back from his desk so 
violently that it nearly tipped over. He began to pace 
up and down the study floor, his hands shoved deep into 
his pockets, a tense frown between his brows. He walked 
and walked and walked, getting nowhere in his mental 
discussion precisely as he got nowhere in actual distance 
with all that marching. And suddenly the similarity 
between the two processes struck him, and he rushed into 
the hall, seized hat and coat, put them on as a man does 
who finds himself late for a train, and let himself out into 
the April night where the air was heavy with a gathering 
storm. It was precisely midnight by the sounding of a 
distant tower clock as the manse door closed behind him. 

Do you happen to know, by any analogous experience, 
just what sort of a night Robert Black spent, alone with 
himself? If you do, no need to describe it to you. If 
you have never wrestled with a great spiritual temptation, 
beating it olF again and again only to have it steal up and 
grip you more powerfully than before, then you can have 
no conception of what that night brought to Black. A 
concrete temptation — one to steal or rape or kill — can have 
no comparison in insidiously disarming power witl^ one 
made up of forces which cannot be definitely assigned to 
the right side or the wrong. When the thing one wants to 
do can be made to seem the right thing, when Satan masks 
as an angel of light, and only a faint inner voice tells one 
insistently that his premises, his deductions, his conclu- 
sions, are every one false, then indeed does the struggle be- 
come a thing of increasing torture, compared with which 
physical distress is to be welcomed. 

It was four in the morning when Black let himself into 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 183 

the manse again, the light in his study seeming to him the 
only light there was left in the whole world, and that dim 
and unilluminating enough. Outside a heavy storm of 
wind had disabled the local electric service, and the streets 
for the last two hours had been dark as Erebus — and as 
Black’s own thoughts. He had been grateful for that 
darkness for a time; then suddenly it had oppressed him 
unbearably and he had fled back to his home as swiftly as 
he had left it. There — there, in the room where he was 
used to think things out, was the place for him to come to 
his decision. 

As he came in at the manse door the lights flashed on 
again. It was undeniably warm and bright there in his 
study, but his heavy heart took no comfort from this. 
It was a physical relief to be inside out of the storm, but 
the storm in his soul abated not a jot at sight of the 
familiar place. The very look of the study table, filled 
with matters of one sort or another pertaining to his work 
— his writing pad, his loose-leaf note-book, his leather 
sermon-holder, the row of books with which he had lately 
been working and which were therefore lined up between 
heavy book-mds for convenience in laying his hand 
upon them — somehow the sight of these gave him a sense 
of their littleness, their futility, compared with the things 
he had been seeing as he walked. A rifle, with a bayonet 
fixed and gleaming at its end; a Scottish uniform, with 
chevrons on the sleeve and insignia on the shoulder — a 
worn, soiled uniform at that; men all about, real men, who 
did not fuss over trifles nor make too much of anything, 
men with whom he could be friend or enemy as he desired 
- — ^these were what Black saw. He saw also the two brave 
lads who had gone to their death, his own blood, who had 
been coming over shortly to follow his lead in the big coun- 


184. 


RED AND BLACK 


try where he had found room to breathe, and whose un- 
timely end he longed personally to avenge. And he saw 
— ^Jane Ray, over there, herself in service, meeting him 
somewhere, when both had done their part, and joining 
her life with his in some further service to mankind, 
social, reconstructive, unhampered by the bonds of any 
religious sect 

Oh, well — perhaps you can’t see or feel it — perhaps to 
you the logical thing seems the very thing that so called 
to Robert Black. Why shouldn’t he listen — ^why shouldn’t 
he respond — why wasn’t this the real thing, the big thing, 
and why shouldn’t he dare to take it, and give God thanks 
that He had released him from too small, too cramped, too 
narrow a place of usefulness, into one which was bounded 
only by the edges of the great world of need? What 
was it that held him back — that so hardly held him 
back? 

It was a little black-bound book which first began to 
turn the tide. It was lying on the study desk, pushed well 
back under some loose papers, but it was there all the time, 
and Black never once lost the remembrance that it was 
there. Again and again he wished it were not there, be- 
cause he knew through it all that he could never settle the 
thing without reference to that little worn book. It was 
not the Bible, it was a ritual-book, containing all the forms 
of service in use in the Church to which Black belonged; 
it held, among others, the service for the ordination of 
ministers, and that very book had been used in the ordina- 
tion of Black himself. As a man fighting to free himself 
From his marriage vows might struggle to turn his thoughts 
away from the remembrance of the solemn words he had 
once spoken, so did Black, in his present mood, strive to 
forget the very nearness at hand of that little book. And 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 185 

yet, at last, as he had known he would, he seized and 
opened it. After all, were such vows as he had made 
irrevocable.? Many a man had forsaken them, first and 
last. Had none of these deserters been justified? 

Yet, as he went over and over it, that which hit him so 
heavily was not the language of the ordination vows which 
he had been evading and which now struck hirrt full in 
his unwilling conscience, gravely binding though the 
phrases were. Nor was it that of the closing prayer, well 
though he remembered how the words had thrilled him, 
and had thrilled him ever sil;ce, whenever he read them 
over: Endue him with spiritual grace; help him perform 

the vow that he has made; and continuing faithful unto death 
may he at length receive the crown of life which the Lordy 
the righteous Judge, will give him in that dayJ* No, it 
was not these words which held his reluctant gaze fast at 
last, but others, which he had written into the small 
blank space at the top of the page whereon the service 
began. 

Two years before he had had sudden and unexpected 
word of his mother’s death on Easter Day — and the ap- 
proaching Sunday would be Easter again. On that day, 
because she had been dear to him, and because he had been 
across the seas from her, he had written upon the page 
a renewal of his ordination vows. When he had been a 
little boy she had told him that some day she wanted him 
to be a minister of the Scottish Church, the Free Kirk of 
Scotland, in which she had been brought up. It had hurt 
her that he had wanted to go away to America, and though 
he had several times during the succeeding years crossed 
the ocean to see her, she had never quite recovered from 
the disappointment. On a strange impulse, that Easter 
Day, two years ago, knowing that he could never in this 


RED AND BLACK 


1 86 

world see her face again, he had taken up his pen and 
written upon the blank space these words: 

Beloved Mother: 

This is the most precious thing I have in the world. I give it 
to you this Easter Day of your entrance into Heaven. These 
words were used at my ordination. I have said them over again 
to-day, because of your love for me, and my love for you. I shall 
keep them always. 

Robert. 

These, then, were the irrevocable words he could not 
take back. Ele had vowed to his God — he had promised 

his mother How shall a man take back such words? 

He had known all along it was unthinkable that he should, 
but his fight had been none the less tremendous for that — 
perhaps the more, for that. The tighter one feels the 
bonds that bind him, the harder is the struggle against 
them. 

Black fell upon his knees before the old red-cushioned 
rocker which still held its place among the more dignified 
furnishings of the study. Somehow, it was this chair 
which was to him his Throne of Grace. He had not yet 
given up — it seemed to him he couldn’t give up — but he 
had come to this, that he could take the attitude of prayer 
about it, instead of striding blindly through the silent 
streets, his own fierce will driving him on. And even as 
he knelt, there came before him with new and vivid colour, 
like a fascinating portrait on a screen, the face of Jane Ray. 
Thus far, to-night, he had succeeded mostly in keeping her 
in the background, at least till he should have decided his 
great question. But with her sudden return to the fore- 
front of his mental images came a new and startling 
thought: “ If you went as she wants you to go, you miaht 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 187 

many her before you went. You might go together. 
But as a chaplain — you can only be her friend. Make 
love to her — wild love, and take her off her feet! Be 
human — you’ve every right.” 

At this he fairly leaped to his feet. And then began 
the very worst conflict of all, for this last thought was more 
than flesh and blood could stand. In his present mood, 
the exhaustion of the night’s vigil beginning to tell heavily 
against his endurance, he was as vulnerable as mortal 
could well be. Since the night when he had seen Jane 
act in Cary’s play and had taken her for the walk in the 
rain, her attraction for him had grown apace. He had 
not understood quite how it had grown till Red’s words 
to-night had set his imagination aflame. The vision of 
his going soldiering had somehow kindled in him new 
fires of earthly longing, dropping his priesthood out of 
sight. Now, suddenly, he found himself all but a lover, 
of the most human sort, thinking with pulses leaping of 
marriage in haste, with the parting which must inevitably 
soon follow keying the whole wonderful experience to the 
highest pitch. It was the sort of imagining which, once 
indulged in for a moment, goes flying past all bounds and 
barriers, while the breath quickens and the blood races, 
and the man is all man, with other plans, other hopes, other 
aspirations forgot, in the rush of a desire so overwhelming 
that he can take no account of anything else in heaven or 
earth. 

Small wonder, then, that Black should find he must have 
it out with himself all over again, nothing settled, even 
the little black-bound book in one mad moment dropped 
into a drawer and the drawer slammed shut. Not fair — 
not fair — to have to keep that book in sight! God Himself 
knew. He must know, that when He made man he made 


i88 


RED AND BLACK 


him full of passions — for all sorts of splendid things — and 
perhaps the greatest of these were war — and love! How 
should a man be satisfied to be — a priest? No altar fire 
could burn brightly enough for him to warm his cold hands. 
As for his heart — it seemed to him just then that no 
priest’s heart could ever be warm at all! 

Could it not? Even as Black raged up and down his 
room, his hands clenched, his jaw hard set, his eyes fell 
upon a picture in the shadow — one he knew well. There 
had been a time when that picture had been one of his 
dearest possessions and had hung always above his desk. 
When he had come to his new church, and had been setting 
his new study in order, Tom had helped him hang his few 
pictures. It had been Tom who, glancing critically at 
this one, and seeing in it nothing to himself appealing — 
it was to him a dim and shadowy thing, of little colour and 
no significance — had hurriedly placed it over here, in this 
unlighted corner. Several times since Black had noted it 
there, and had said to himself that it was a shame for the 
beautiful thing to be so obscured — he must remove it to 
a better place and light, because he really cared much for 
it. But he had been busy — and careless — he had not 
removed it. And now, suddenly, it drew him. He 
went to it, took it from the wall, went over to the desk 
light with it. And then, as he looked, once again the mir- 
acle happened, and the spirit, the spirit which God Himself 
has set in every human creature, leaped up and triumphed 
over the flesh, and Black’s fight was over — for that time. 
Not over forever, perhaps, but over for that time — which 
was enough. 

Perhaps you know the picture — it is well known and 
much loved. A great cathedral nave stretches away into 
the distance, the altar in the far background streaming with 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 189 

light, the choir gathered, the service on. The foreground 
of the picture is all in shadow, and in the depths of that 
shadow kneels one prostrate form in an abandon of 
anxiety or grief. Behind it, unseen, stands a wondrous, 
pitying, strongly supporting figure with hand outstretched, 
an aura of light about it, love and understanding emanat- 
ing from it. Not with the crowd at the altar, but with 
the lonely human creature in the darkness, lingers the 
figure of the Lord. The words below are these: ‘‘Lo, I 
am with you alway, even unto the end of the worlds 

Robert Black dropped upon his knees once more before 
the old red-cushioned chair, but not, now, with will re- 
bellious against a too hard fate, a too rigorous necessity. 
The old loyalty, at sight of the picture which in past days 
of happy faith had meant so much to him, had sprung into 
life again as a flame, quenched but not put out, springs as 
the wind fans it. A sob came into his dry throat, his head 
went down upon his folded arms. His body relaxed; 
after a minute he no longer knelt, he had sunk upon the 
floor with his face pillowed against the red cushion in the 
chair-seat. 

“O my Christ!” he said slowly aloud, ‘T give up. I 
couldn’t do it for God — but I can for You! It was You I 
promised — Fll keep it — till the end! If I go to war, PlI 
go to carry — Your Cross! And if You’ll let me. I’ll carry 
it to the very front!” 

Mrs. Hodder found him in the morning — though it was 
morning indeed when the fight was over. He had been 
asleep but an hour, there on the floor by the old red rocker, 
when she came briskly in to open the windows and give 
the manse study its usual early dusting and setting to 
rights. At sight of the desk light still burning dully in the 
pale daylight she looked astonished, and a moment later, 


RED AND BLACK 


190 

as she espied the figure on the floor by the chair, she 
started, frightened. Trembling she called the minister’s 
name, stooping over him; but seeing at once the warm 
colour in his cheek, drew back with an agitated breath of 
relief. 

“My land!” she murmured, “if the poor dear man ain’t 
so beat out he’s went to sleep right here on the floor. I 
always did know he’d kill himself if he kept rushin’ around 
so, try in’ to be all things to all men — and all women. 
Seems like they couldn’t think of enough things to ask 
him to do for ’em, besides all the things he thinks of him- 
self. That bad news he got, too — likely that was what 
used him up.” 

“Yes,” answered a very sleepy voice, when she had 
shaken the recumbent shoulder a little and called his name 
once or twice, “all right. Breakfast ready?” 

“Not yet — but ’twill be, in a jiffy. Goodness me, Mr. 
Black, you certainly did give me a start! You must have 
been tired to death, to sleep all night on the floor, so.” 

Black got stiffly to his feet. “I’m all right. Listen — 
what’s that?” 

It was an early morning newsboy on the street outside, 

stridently calling: Extry — extry I ” What followed 

was not distinguishable. Black, overcoming his stiffness 
of limb in a hurry, got to the outer door, whistled loudly, 
and secured a paper. When he came back all appearance 
of sleep or weariness had fled from him. 

“We’re in, Mrs. Hodder, we’re in!” he was half shouting, 
and his tone thrilled his middle-aged housekeeper. Long 
afterward she was accustomed to say, when she told the 
story: “I knew from that minute where he’d be. We’d 
ought all have known it from the beginning, but I was so 
dumb 1 never sensed it till that morning when he corr^ 


A LONG APRIL NIGHT 191 

back with the paper, callin’ out so solemn — and yet so 
happy-like — *We*re in, Mrs, H odder, we^re in!* says he. 
I guess he was in! That was a Saturday. And Sunday — 
he gave us the sign! My, but Pll never forget that!” 

The sign! Yes, that was what Black did give. All day 
Saturday he was making possible the thing he had long 
before determined he would do when the hour came. F rom 
mill to shop he went, with orders and measurements; late 
on Saturday evening he came out of the Stone Church alone, 
locking the door behind him. His face was worn but not 
unhappy, and that night he slept like a tired child, his 
cheek upon his hand, his heart quiet and steady in his 
breast. 

Next morning, when the people came into church, every 
eye turned startled to one spot. At the right of the pulpit, 
on the floor just below, lifted a straight and sturdy stand- 
ard. From it hung the American flag, its silken folds 
motionless in the still air, yet seeming alive in the glory of 
its vivid colour. Above it hung the only flag which^ held 
the right to hang above the National emblem — that of the 
Church Militant, the pure white pennant with its cross 
of blue. 

In a brief service Robert Black, his face showing red and 
white by turns with a restrained emotion he could not 
wholly conceal, dedicated the two flags, and his people 
had their first glimpse of what it might mean to him and 
them before it should all be over and peace again upon the 
earth. They couldn’t know that to him the real dedica- 
tion of the two flags had taken place the night before, when 
alone in the church he had lifted them into place and knelt 
before them, vowing anew his vow of allegiance and of 
service to God and country, a vow never again to be 
insecure upon his lips. 


CHAPTER XII 

EVERYBODY PLOTS 


M ay I come in?’’ 

Nan Lockhart hardly paused for permission to 
enter Fanny’s room, so accustomed was she to share in- 
timately with her friend most of her possessions, including 
rooms. Therefore she followed her knock and question 
with her entrance — and paused upon the threshold with a 
boyish whistle of surprise not unmixed with derision. 

Fanny turned away from the long mirror with a 
little laugh. “Well, how do you like me in it?” she 
inquired. 

“Oh, you’re stunning, of course,” Nan admitted. 
“Trying on all the different forms of war service, to see 
which is most becoming? You’ll let that decide it, of 
course?” 

“Certainly, Miss Cynic! And why not? Shouldn’t a 
girl make the most of herself, under all conditions?” 

Fanny had donned a white blouse and skirt, white shoes 
and stockings, and had pinned a white towel about her 
head. She had even gone to the trouble of cutting out a 
5mall red cross and fastening it upon the front of her head- 
gear. The towel did not entirely cover her hair; engaging 
ringlets showed themselves about her small ears. She 
resembled a fascinating young nun except that in her 
eyes danced a most unconventual wickedness. 

“This is merely stage play, I suppose?” Nan questioned 


192 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 


193 

dryly. ‘‘You’ve no possible thought of offering your 
services, in towels or out of them?” 

Fanny Fitch swung herself up to the footboard of her 
bed, and sat there, swinging her pretty feet. She smiled 
at her friend disarmingly; but Nan did not disarm under 
the smile. 

“You’re the most distrustful creature I ever knew, 
Nancy Lockhart. Don’t you think I could get away with 
the nursing proposition? Smooth the fevered brow, and 
count the throbbing pulse, and charm the disordered brain 
back to sanity and calm? Read aloud to ” 

“And wade around In floods of gore, and scrub the floor 
of the operating room, and keep on working when your 
back aches like fury, and get about four hours’ sleep out 
of twenty-four? Wear your white uniform with the ward 
below fifty degrees — and zero outside? Game, are you, 
Fanny?” 

“Bless my soul! — how terribly technical you sound! 
What do you know about it all?” 

“More than you do. I’ll wager. I’ve been reading 
about an American girl who has been in it for two years 
already. She * wears the rue — with a difference,^ methinks, 
Fanny.” 

“Oh, well — I’ve got to get In It somehow,” announced 
the wearer of the pseudo-uniform frankly. “ Because, you 
know, my friend Robert Black is going, and I can’t think 
with serenity of the wide Atlantic rolling between us. Of 
course there’s just one way I’d like to go, and maybe I’ll 
achieve that yet.” Her eyes sparkled. “Ye gods, 
but wouldn’t that be great! What’ll you wager I go — 
that way?” 

“What way?”' 

“As his — ^well — ” Fanny seemed to be enjoying 


RED AND BLACK 


194 

herself Intensely — ‘^as his comrade-at-arms, you knew — = 
meaning, of course, his — comrade in arms. Oh-hl” — ■ 
she gave the exclamation all the dramatic force it could 
hold, drawing it out with an effect of ecstasy — “Think 
of walking away with Robert McPherson Black from 
under the very eyes of his congregation — and of the demure 
but intriguing Jane!” And she threw both arms wide 
in a gesture of abandon, then clasped them across her 
breast, slipped down from the footboard, and fell at 
Nan’s feet, looking up at her with beseeching eyes and an 
utter change of aspect. “Oh, please, my dearest dear, 
don’t put any spokes in my wheel! Let me just imagine 
Fm doing something to bridge the chasm — the enormous 
chasm between us. It’s a frightful thing to be so deeply, 
darkly, desperately in love as I am — and then to see your 
hero absorbed in plans to take himself away from you, out 
of your world, with never a look behind!” 

“Fanny!” 

“Oh, but I’ll make him look behind — I will — I will! 
I’ll turn those rapt black eyes of his back to the earth, 
earthy — or to the United States, United States-y — and to 
Fanny Fitch. And — I’ll keep Jane Ray home if I have 
to put poison in her food.” 

“Fanny, get up!” Nan reached down and shook her 
friend’s shoulders. “What on earth is the matter with 
you? Have you gone crazy?” 

“I think so.” Fanny buried her head in Nan’s skirts, 
clasping her arms about the other’s waist. “Raving 
crazy. I met Mr. Black on the street just now. He was 
rushing along with his wagon hitched to a star, by the 
look of him. He didn’t even see me till he all but ran 
into me. Of course I had put myself in his way. Then 
he snatched off his hat, asked pardon and how I was, all 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 


195 

in the same breath — as if I had been one of his very oldest 
old ladies — and got away like a catapult. He was going 
in the direction of the station, I admit, but that wouldn’t 
reasonably have prevented his exchanging a few friendly 
words with me. Oh, I can stand anything — anything — 
but having a man not even see me!” 

‘‘So I should judge, my dear, from past experience,” 
Nan commented, grimly. She had put her arms rather 
reluctantly about Fanny, however; it was impossible not 
to see that something, at least, of this hysteria was caused 
by real feeling, if amazingly undisguised. She was quite 
accustomed to Fanny’s self-revelations, and entirely used 
to taking them without seriousness. But in the present 
instance her sympathies were supplemented by her under- 
standing of how it might be quite possible for a girl to lose 
her head over Robert Black without his being in the least 
responsible by personal word or deed. She now endeav- 
oured to apply a remedy to the situation. 

“Fanny,” she said, “Mr. Black isn’t thinking about 
anything just now but war, and how to get across. He 
has lost those fine young nephews, whom he expected to 
have come here when the war was over, and his mind is 
full of them. He hasn’t a corner of his attention to give 
to women — any woman ” 

“I’ve met him twice in the last week coming out of 
Jane Ray’s. Of course Cary was with him one of the 
times, and Doctor Burns the other — but that doesn’t 
mean he hadn’t been confabbing with Jane. He’s wise 
as a serpent, but I’m not at all sure he’s harmless as a dove 
— he’s much too clever to be seen paying attentions to 
any of us. He’s always with some man — you can’t get 
at him. And when he comes here he has Tom hanging 
round him every minute. Of course I know Tommy wants 


RED AND BLACK 


196 

to keep him away from me — but he appears to want to 
be kept away, so I can’t so much as get a chance. If I 
could But — 

Fanny sat back on her heels, wiping away a real tear 
with the corner of her towel. 

“Of course you will, if you set out to do it. But — be 
careful, my dear. Robert Black can’t be taken by storm.” 

“That’s the one way he can be taken. I might plot and 
plan forever to make an impression on him in the ordinary 
ways — he’s steel proof, I think, against those. The only 
way to get his attention is the way this war has got it — 
by shot and shell. If I can just somehow be badly 
wounded and fall down in his path, he’ll — stoop and pick 
me up. And if he once finds me in his arms ” 

“Oh, Fanny, Fanny! For heaven’s sake don’t try to 
play a game with him!” Nan spoke sternly. She re- 
moved herself by a pace or two from her friend, and stood 
aloof, her dark brows drawing together. “I know you’re 
a born actress and can assume any part you like. That 
may be well enough in ordinary times — though I doubt it 
— but not in times like these. Don’t go to war to play 
the old game of hitting hearts. You’re not going to war — 
I know that — but don’t pretend you want to. It isn’t 
fair. This thing is one of life or death, and that’s what’s 
taking men like Doctor Burns and Mr. Black into it. 
They’ll have no use for anybody who doesn’t offer him- 
self, body and soul. That’s what Jane Ray is doing — 
but not you, you know. You just want — to marry a 
man.” 

“Oh, but you’re hard!” Fanny got to her feet, moved 
over to the window and stood looking out, the picture of 
unhappiness. ‘‘Jane Ray, indeed! How does it happen 
you believe in her so fast? Why isn’t she playing a game. 


. )DY PLOTS 197 

too? — Of course she is. But because her hair Is smooth 
and dark, and her manner so sweetly poised, you take her 
at her own valuation. She’s clever as Satan, and she’ll 
put it over, I suppose. But why, just because I’m of a 
different type, I must be forever accused of acting ” 

“My dear — I’m taking you at your own valuation. 
Haven’t you explained to me exactly the part you intend 
to play — getting badly wounded and falling down in 
Robert Black’s path ” 

“You’re so intensely literal!” Fanny spoke bitterly. 
“Heaven knows it will be no acting if I do get wounded. 
I’m wounded now — to the heart. And if I fall down In 
his path it’ll be because I can’t stand up. Last Sunday, 
when he stood there under the colours — ^who wouldrCt 
have wanted him? Why, even you — ” she turned to 
look full at Nan, with her reddened eyes searching Nan’s 
grave face — “it wouldn’t take an awful lot of imagination 
to put you in the same class with me, in spite of that 
wonderful grip you always keep on yourself. Honestly, 
now, can you tell me you wouldn’t marry him, If he asked 
you?” 

Annette Lockhart was not of those who turn scarlet or 
pale under cross-examination. Moreover, she was the 
daughter of Samuel Lockhart and had from him the ability 
to keep close hold of her emotions. She was entirely 
accustomed to facing down Fanny Fitch when she did not 
choose to reveal herself to her. Nevertheless, it may have 
cost her the effort of her life to answer neither too vehe- 
mently nor too nonchalantly this highly disconcerting 
question. 

“You certainly must be a little mad to-day, my dear 
girl. Just because you are so hard hit, don’t go to fancy- 
ing that the woods are full of the slain. I like Mr. Black 


tgS RED AND Bi." t, 

very much, but Fm not a case for the stretcher bearers — 
inor likely te be. And just now Fm wanting so much to 
go myself, and know I can’t possibly, because Tom will, 
and Father and Mother couldn’t face our both going at 
once.” 

Fanny began suddenly to get out of her white apparel. 
‘T’m going round to see Jane Ray,” she announced, with 
one of the characteristic impulses to whose expression Nan 
was well used. “It’s best to make friends with the enemy 
in this case, I think. And possibly I may meet Robert 
Black — coming out or going in under cover of a man friend. 
In that case I may receive one casual glance from His 
Eminence which will complete my undoing for to-day. 
That will surely be worth while.” She laughed unhap- 
pily. 

Half an hour afterward she walked into Jane Ray’s 
shop. Her eyes were red no longer, her colour was charm- 
ing, her manner was composed. When Jane was at 
liberty Fanny discussed “pie-crust” tables with her, de- 
claring her intention to present something of the sort to 
Mrs. Lockhart. 

“I’ve made such a terribly long visit,” she explained, 
“ and still they urge me to stay on. Of course it’s wonder- 
ful for me — with my mother so far away. But I shall only 
stay till I can find out where to offer myself — if mother will 
just say I may go. Poor dear, she has such a horror of war 
— she may make it difficult for me. Meanwhile — I want to 
take every possible step, so I can have every argument to 
meet her with. If I could only go with someone — some 
other girl — she might feel differently about it.” 

“Yes, I should think that might help it,” Jane agreed. 
Her dark eyes met Fanny’s lustrous blue ones across the 
group of tables they had been considering. She was very 


.EVERYBODY PLOTS 199 

much on her guard now wherever Miss Fitch was con- 
cerned. The problem of the friendship between Nan 
Lockhart, whom Jane couldn’t help liking and thoroughly 
trusting, and Fanny Fitch, whom she could somehow 
neither like nor trust, was one which she had as yet found 
no means of solving. Also, Cary’s sudden and intense 
interest in Fanny had set his sister to studying the girl 
with new acuteness. Thus far she seemed to Jane all 
actress; it was becoming increasingly difficult not to sus- 
pect her constantly of being other than she seemed. 

‘‘And yet we all act, more or less,” Jane said to herself 
honestly. “I’m acting this very minute, myself. I’m 
playing the part of one who is only politely interested in 
what she means to do, while I’m really crazily anxious that 
she shall not do certain things which involve Cary and me.” 

“ I wonder if you would trust me with any of your own 
plans,” Fanny said, engagingly. “I can’t help knowing 
that you mean to go, and I’m sure you must have much 
real knowledge that I’m ignorant of. Is nursing the only 
thing a girl can do.? You’re not trained for that, are 
you.? Forgive me — I’m not just curious, you know — I’m 
tremendously serious.” 

“My plans aren’t fully worked out,” Jane answered. 
“I have enough training to go as nurse’s assistant, under 
the Red Cross.” 

“Oh, have you? How wonderful! Could I get that, 
do you suppose? I’m really a terribly quick study — I 
used to cram any amount of stuff in the forty-eight hours 
before an exam, and get away with it. If I could — oh. 
Miss Ray — ^would it be possible — ^would you be willing — 
could you consider letting me go with you?” 

Jane looked into the sea-blue eyes which were looking 
so appealingly into her own. “Yes,” she said to herself 


200 


RED AND BLACK 


again, “I can see exactly how you do it. That look is 
absolutely irresistible — ^just angel-sweet and full of sincer- 
ity. I wish I could trust you — I really wish I could. But 
somehow — I can’t. Something inside me says that you 
don’t mean it — you don’t — you’re not genuine. You’ve 
some stake you’re playing for — you don’t care a copper 
cent about helping over there. How am I going to deal 
with you?” 

It’s odd, isn’t it? How do we do it — how do we keep 
up this double discussion, one with our lips, the other with 
our thoughts? Jane and Fanny went into the matter 
rather thoroughly, talking with entire friendliness ot 
manner about possible courses to be followed, sources of 
information to be consulted; and all the time the things 
they both were thinking ran so far ahead in volume 
and in direction of the things they were saying that there 
could be no comparison between the two. Both were 
much too well trained in worldly wisdom to allow the 
smallest particle of personal antagonism to show in word 
or manner, and yet as the talk proceeded each became more 
and more aware that there was and could be no sympathy 
or openness between them. 

And then Cary came dashing into the shop, and seeing 
Fanny pounced upon her and bore her away with him for 
a walk, vowing he should so soon be gone he must make 
the most of every opportunity. Jane looked after them 
as they went, wishing heartily that the day would come 
quickly when Cary would be off and away. His plans 
were rapidly taking shape; his old newspaper, after a 
searching interview with him and a series of Inquiries 
directed toward establishing the thoroughness of his refor- 
mation, had made him a sort of probational offer which hr 
had accepted with mingled glee and resentment. 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 201 

‘‘They’ll send me, only with all kinds of conditions 
attached which Fd never accept if I weren’t so wild to go. 
But they’ll see — Fll show them. Just let me send back 
one rattling article from the real front, and they’ll be wiring 
to tie me up to the thing for the duration of the war.” 
Thus he had exultantly prophesied to his sister, and to 
Robert Black, and to Red, and they had agreed that it was 
certainly up to him. He had his chance — the chance to 
retrieve himself completely; they were all three concern- 
edly eager to see him safely olF upon his big adventure. 

He was so excited about it, so restless, so impatient for 
the call which had been virtually promised him for an 
early date, that they felt constrained to watch him care- 
fully. Without knowing exactly why, none of these 
three friends quite liked to see him often with Fanny Fitch. 
Jane herself was unwilling to appeal to Fanny, or to give 
her even a vague idea of his past weakness; she now saw 
them go away together with an uneasy feeling that she 
wished it hadn’t happened. 

An hour later Cary telephoned that he wouldn’t be back 
for dinner; he would take it in town, he said — he had some 
equipment to look up. He might be back late — ^Jane was 
not to sit up for him. He said nothing about Miss Fitch, 
but Jane’s instant conviction was that the two were dining 
together. Probably they would go to the theatre after- 
ward and come out on a late local. Well, what of it? 
Fanny was no schoolgirl to need chaperonage; there was 
nothing in this program to disturb anybody. But Jane 
was disturbed. Suppose — ^well, suppose Fanny were the 
sort of girl who didn’t object to having a cocktail — or a 
glass of champagne — or both — at a hotel dinner alone 
with a man? What would companionship on that basis 
do for Cary, just now? She had no reason to suppose that 


202 


RED AND BLACK 


Miss Fitch was that sort of girl, and yet — somehow—she 
felt that the chances were in favour of her being precisely 
that sort of girl. Nan Lockhart’s friend — wasn’t that 
voucher enough? Still, friends didn’t always know each 
other as well as they supposed they did. And Fanny, 
ever since she had dressed the part of the French actress 
with such fidelity to fact, had seemed to Jane an over- 
sophisticated young woman who wouldn’t much rnirid 
what she did, so that she drew men’s eyes and thoughts to 
herself. Excitement — that was what Fanny wanted, 
Jane was sure. An excellent chance for it, too, dining 
with a brilliant young war-correspondent, himself keyed 
to high pitch over his near future. And if the play 
chanced to be 

A certain recollection leaped into Jane’s brain. She 
went hurriedly to the back of the shop for the city daily, 
and scanned a column of play offerings. Yes, there it 
was — she remembered seeing it, and Cary’s laughing ref- 
erence to it at the breakfast table that morning, coupled 
with the statement that he meant to see it. The play was 
one of the most noted dramatic successes of the season, its 
star one famous for her beauty and sorcery, and not less 
than infamous for the even artistically unjustifiable note 
she never failed to strike, its lines and scenes the last word 
in modern daring. A great play for a man and woman to 
see together, with wine before and after! And Cary could 
not safely so much as touch his lips to a glass of the most 
innocent of the stimulants without danger to that appetite 
of his which was as yet only scotched, not slain. If any- 
thing happened now to wreck his plans — ^what confidence 
in him, what hope of him, could be again revived? 

After all, perhaps Jane was borrowing trouble. The pair 
might have had only the walk they went for, Cary after- 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 203 

ward taking the train for town alone. On tne impulse — 
what did it matter whom she offended if she saved her 
brother from his great temptation? — she went to the tele- 
phone and called up the Lockhart residence. Was Miss 
Fitch in? The answer came back promptly: Miss Fitch 
was not in. She had not left word when she would be in, 
but it was likely that she had gone into town, as she had 
spoken of the possibility. 

Jane hung up the receiver with a heavy heart. Perhaps 
her imagination was running away with her — she hoped 
it was. But the conviction grew upon her that part, if 
not all, of her supposition was likely to prove true. F anny 
Fitch might be quite above the kind of thing Jane was 
imputing to her; it might be that Cary himself, aware of 
the danger to his whole future of one false step now, would 
be too thoroughly on his guard to take one smallest chance. 
Hotel lobbies and cafes were always the meeting places of 
newspaper men; he might easily be recognized by some 
man who knew that he was upon probation; Cary under- 
stood this perfectly; he would take care to run no risk. 
Would he? 

Jane looked up the train schedule. Then she dressed 
carefully, locked the shop, took the earliest train which 
would get her to town, and tried to make plans on the way. 
As to just what she meant to do she was not clear. If no 
other way presented she felt that she must get hold of 
Fanny herself and warn her of Cary’s susceptibilities and 
the consequences of any weakening at this hour of his life. 
And then what? Was there that in Fanny to be counted 
on? 

All the way sne was wishing for Robert Black! Just 
what he could do she had no idea; that he would somehow 
find a way she was certain. But it was small use wishing. 


RED AND BLACK 


204 

The next best thing would be to come upon Red Pepper 
Burns, and this seemed not impossible, because he was 
daily to be found in this city of which his own town was 
the suburb; he did most of his operating at one of its hos- 
pitals. What Red might do in the emergency she could 
hardly imagine, either — but she was equally sure that he 
would cut across all obstacles to force Cary out of possible 
danger. 

To what hotel would Cary take Fanny? She could be 
pretty sure of this — it was one at the moment highly 
popular with the sociably inclined younger element of the 
city, as well as with the floating class who pick out a cer- 
tain pronounced type of hostelry wherever they may go. 
Rather more than moderately high prices, excellent food, 
superlatively good music, a management astute beyond 
the average — plus a general air of prosperity and good 
fellowship — this makes the place for the gathering of 
the clans who love what they call a good time, and who 
have in their pockets — for the hour, at least — the money 
to pay for it. 

Jane left her train in haste, crossed the big waiting-room 
with quick glances to right and left in search of a possible 
encounter, and at the outer door ran full upon someone 
she had not been looking for but at sight of whom a light 
of relief leaped into her face. Mrs. Redfield Pepper Burns 
stood close beside the door, evidently waiting for someone. 
Instantly Jane’s decision was made. She did not know 
Mrs. Burns nearly as well as she did the red-headed doctor, 
but she knew her quite well enough to take counsel with 
her, sure that she would understand and help. 

“Mrs. Burns,” — Jane spoke rapidly and low — “please 
forgive me for bothering you with my affairs. I may be 
borrowing trouble, but I am anxious about my brother. 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 


205 

I think he is dining in town to-night at the Napoleon, and 
may be going to a play. He is with Miss Fitch, I be- 
lieve, and Pm afraid she doesn’t understand that — ^just now 
— he mustn’t take — any sort of stimulant. Doctor Burns 
understands — perhaps you do, too — or will, from my telling 
you this much. I wish — would it be too much ? — to ask 
you to stay and have dinner with me at the Napoleon, and 
perhaps join Miss Fitch and Cary — or ask them to join us? 
I can’t think just what else to do.” 

She had always deeply admired Ellen Burns; now, quite 
suddenly, she found herself loving her. One long look 
from the beautiful black eyes, one firm pressure from the 
friendly hand, the sound of the low, warm-toned voice in 
her ear, and she knew that she had enlisted a true friend. 

‘‘My dear — ^just let me think. I believe we can do 
even better than that.” A minute of silence followed, 
then Mrs. Burns went on: ‘‘My husband and Mr. 
Black are staying in together, to meet a quite famous 
man from abroad. They were to have dinner together 

first at ^Wait — I’ll not stop to explain — Let me leave a 

message here, and then we’ll take a cab and run back up 
there. I’ve only just left them.” 

In the cab, five minutes later, Mrs. Burns worked out her 
quickly conceived idea. 

“We’ll find my husband and Mr. Black, go to dinner at 
the Napoleon, and ask your brother and Miss Fitch to join 
us. Once Red knows the situation he will find a way to 
get Mr. Ray off* with them to meet the famous one, and you 
and I will take Miss Fitch to the play. What is on to- 
night ? ” She drew her lovely brows together. “ Not — oh, 
not that very unpleasant Russian thing ? — ^Y es ? Oh, we’ll 
find something else — or go to a charming violin recital I 
had half intended to stay in for. Don’t be anxious, Miss 


2o6 


RED AND BLACK 


Ray, we’ll work it out. And what we can’t think of Robert 
Black will — he’s quite wonderfully resourceful.” 

Hours afterward, when, well towards morning, Jane 
closed her eyes and tried to sleep, her mind refused to give 
her anything to look at but a series of pictures, like scenes 
in a well-staged play. Certain ones stood out, and the 
earliest of these showed Mrs. Burns crossing a quiet recep- 
tion room to lay one hand on her husband’s arm, while her 
eyes met frankly first his questioning gaze and then that 
of Robert Black. Nothing could have been simpler than 
her reasonable request of them. Might they change their 
plans a bit, now that she had found Miss Ray, and all go 
over to the Napoleon to dinner, to find Miss Fitch and Mr. 
Ray? The hazel eyes of Red Pepper Burns had looked 
deeply into his wife’s at this — he saw plainly that she was 
definitely planning, with a reason. He was well used to 
trusting her — he trusted her now. He nodded. “Of 
course, dear,” he said. 

Robert Black came to Jane. “I think I understand,” 
he said quietly. “We’ll all stand by.” 

They crossed the street together — Red went to inter- 
view the head waiter. Within five minutes the four were 
being led to a table at the very back of the room, close be- 
side one of those small recesses, holding each a table for 
two, which are among the Napoleon’s most popular assets. 
And then Mrs. Burns, looking across into the recess, had 
nodded and smiled, and spoken to her husband, and he 
had promptly gone across, and invited the pair there to 
come over and be his guests. 

Cary had turned violently red, and had begun to say 
stiffly and very definitely that his order had gone in, 
and that it would be as well not to change, thank youj 
when Robert Black came also into the recess, bowing in 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 207 

his most dignified manner to Fanny Fitch. Somehow 
Jane Ray had not known until that moment quite how 
much dignity he could assume. “ Ray,” he had said, in the 
other’s ear, ‘T imagine you haven’t heard that Richard 
Temple is here to-night — on his way back. Couldn’t you 
cut everything else and go with me to hear him.? There 
won’t be such a chance again before we get across. I’m 
sure Miss Fitch would excuse you. It’s a smoker, ar- 
ranged in a hurry. Nobody knew he was coming.” 

Well, that made all the difference. Call it luck, call it 
what you will, that the great war-correspondent, the great- 
est of them all up to that time, a man whom Cary Ray 
would almost have given his right arm to meet, was pass- 
ing through the town that night. It had been another 
man, more famous in a different line, an Englishman from 
a great university, turned soldier, whom Black and Red 
had stayed in town to meet. But the moment Black had 
discovered Jane’s anxiety and its cause he had leaped at 
this solution. The correspondent’s coming was an accident 
ov/ing to a train detention — he had arrived unheralded, and 
the two men had but just got wind of it. They had been 
saying, as Mrs. Burns and Jane came to the hotel, that 
it was hard to have to choose between two such rich events, 
and that they must look in on the smoker when the 
Englishman had been heard. But now — Black had all at 
once but one purpose in the world — to carry off Cary Ray 
to that smoker, and to stay beside him till he was at home 
again. That Cary would drink no drop while he, Robert, 
was beside him, was a thing that could be definitely 
counted on. 

'It is possible that no point of view, in relation to the 
remainder of the evening, could be better worth study than 
that of Fanny Fitch. Sitting on the foot of Nan Lo^k- 


2o8 


RED AND BLACK 

hart's bed at two o'clock that morning, she gave a dramatic 
account of what had happened. Nan, sleepy enough at 
first, and indignant with Fanny for waking her, found 
herself wide awake in no time. 

‘‘The perfectly calm and charming way in which Mrs. 
Burns simply switched everything to suit Jane shows 
plainly what an intriguer that girl is — precisely as I told 
you. Oh, yes — Doctor Burns asked us over, and Robert 
Black fixed Cary for the war-correspondent affair, and 
Jane sat there looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her 
mouth. Both she and Mrs. Bums seemed merely lovely, 
innocent creatures intent on distributing good to every- 
body! But those men never would have thought of taking 
Cary away from me if they hadn't been put up to it; men 
never conceive that sort of thing by themselves. That 
dinner — oh, how I hated it! Will you tell me why Cary 
Ray had to be pried loose from me, as if I were some kind 
of vampire of the movie variety " 

“But really, Fanny, Richard Temple is the one man 
in the world Cary Ray ought not to miss hearing and meet- 
ing just now. It would mean such a lot to him. And if 
he was only there that one evening " 

“Oh, I’ll admit that! But to hear Richard Temple 
Cary Ray didn't have to be moved over to the Burns table 
and put in a high chair and have a bib tied round his neck! 
He was furious himself when the change was proposed; 
then of course he went delirious at hearing that the Temple 
man was in town, and forgot his fury. He had to cancel 
part of his order — ^worse luck; Mrs. Burns is the sort who 
wouldn't stand for iced tea if it was served in a champagne 
glass!" 

“ F anny ! Y ou don't mean — — ^Why, surely you've been 
told about Cary Ray. You wouldn't let him " 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 


209 

“Good gracious, can’t the man stand alone by this time? 
He’s going overseas — has he got to have a nurse along? 
What’s having one little glass at a dinner with a girl like 
me compared with the things men order when they’re alone 
together ? He’d better stay home if he isn’t ” 

“Yes, but — ^just now, when he’s on trial, and he might 
so easily be held back! And besides, Fanny — you’re not — 
you ought not ” 

“Oh, don’t preach! Haven’t I been a very model of 
propriety? And am I not going to keep right on being 
one, as long as there’s the least chance of — getting what I 
want? You needn’t grudge me one little jolly evening 
with a boy like Cary Ray, who comes nearer understand- 
ing the sort of fire and flame I’m made of ” 

Nan Lockhart lay back upon her pillow. “Fanny,” 
she said despairingly, “the best thing you can do is to go to 
bed. When you begin to talk about your temperament 
you make me want to give you a cold plunge and a rub- 
down, and tie an ice-cap on your head. You’ve probably 
been saved from helping Cary Ray make a fool of himself 
at a time when he can’t afford to be a fool, and you’d 
better be thankful. How you can imagine that a thing 
like that would help you to find a place in Robert Black’s 
good graces ” 

“Oh, it’s gentle Jane who’s ace-high with him just now, 
of course !” F anny pulled the hairpins out of her hair with 
vicious twitches, letting the whole gleaming fair mass 
fall upon the white silk of the luxurious little garment in 
which she had enveloped herself before coming to Nan’s 
room. “He’s the sort who was born to rescue the fallen, 
and serve the anxious and troubled. He acted like a 
regular knight to Jane — not that he said much to her, but 
one could see. He was very nice to me — too nice. I’d 


210 


RED AND BLACK 

much prefer the Jane-brand of his chivalry — sort of an 
ril-stand-in-front-of-you-and-take-the-blows effect. And 
when he went off with Cary and Doctor Burns, and I was 

left with those two women creatures ” 

‘‘My dear, I can’t let you keep speaking of Mrs. Burns 

that way. She’s one of the finest, sweetest ” 

“She’s a peach!” said Fanny, unexpectedly. “I admit 
I’ve nothing against Mrs. Burns except that she took me 
to a dismal violin recital when I’d awfully wanted to see a 
perfectly ripping play Cary had tickets for.” 

“Not ” 

Fanny nodded. “Of course — ^why not. Miss Prudy? 
I didn’t mind that so much, though. The thing I minded 
was Jane Ray’s sleekness. She makes me think of one 

of those silky black cats with yellow eyes ” 

But here Nan Lockhart sat up in bed, fire in her own 
steel-gray eyes. “Fanny Fitch, that’s enough!” she said, 
with low distinctness. “Jane Ray is my friend.” 

“I thought I was! This is so sudden!” And quite 
unexpectedly, even to herself, Fanny Fitch began to cry, 
with long, sobbing breaths. Nan slipped out of bed, 
pulled on a loose gown hanging over its foot, and laid hold 
of Fanny. 

“Come!” she commanded, firmly. “I’m going to put 
you to bed and give Nature a chance to restore those ab- 
surd nerves of yours. You don’t want Cary Ray, you 
can’t have Robert Black, and you might just as well give 
in and take that perfectly good lover of yours who has been 
faithful to you all these years. He adores you enough to 
put up with the very worst of you, and he ought to be 
rewarded with the best of you. You know absolutely 
that you’d be the most miserable girl in the world married 
to a man of Mr. Black’s type ” 


EVERYBODY PLOTS 21 1 

Fanny drew a deep sigh, her head on Nan’s long-sufFer- 
ing shoulder. 

‘Tt’ll not be my fault if I don’t have a try at that sort of 
misery,” she moaned. “And I’ll do it yet, see if I don’t! 
I know a way! — Oh, yes! I know a way! . Wait and see!” 

Nan Lockhart saw her finally composed for sleep, her 
fair head looking like a captivating cameo against her 
pillow, her white arms meekly crossed upon her breast. 
Fanny looked up at her friend, her face once more serene. 

“Don’t I look good enough now for just anybody?” she 
murmured. 

“You look like a young stained-glass angel,” Nan re- 
plied, grimly. “But — since you were so unjust as to com- 
pare Jane Ray to a silky black cat I’ll tell you that just 
now you make me think of ” 

“I know — a sleepy white one — with a saucer of cream 
near by. Good-night — saint! I don’t deserve you, but — 
I love you just the same. And I dare you to tell me you 
don’t love me!” 

“I’ll take no dares of yours to-night. Go to sleep — and 
please let me, even if you don’t.” And Nan went away 
and closed the door. 

Back in her own room, when she was once more lying 
alone in the dark, Nan said to herself, with a sigh deeper 
than any Fanny Fitch had ever drawn in all her gay young 
life: “What a queer thing it is to be able to wear one’s 
heart on one’s sleeve like that — and not even mind much 
when the daws peck at it!” 


CHAPTER XIII 

A GREAT GASH 


ONFOUND you — pay some attention to me, will 



you? Do you get what Fm saying? Everything’s 
in train. Fve only to take my physical examination — 
papers came this morning, by the way — and get my 
passports, and Fm ofF. For the love of heaven, what’s 
the matter with you. Max Buller? Sitting there looking 
like a mollusc — like a barnacle glued to a rock — and me 
having transports all over the place! Don’t you know a 
magnificently happy man when you see one — and can’t 
you ” 

Red’s manner suddenly changed, as Dr. Maxwell Buller 
looked up at him with an expression of mingled pain and 
protest. Red’s voice softened, his smiling lips grew sober. 

‘'I beg your pardon. Max, old man,” he said. “You’re 
in trouble, and Fm a blind ass — as usual. What’s the 
matter? The Throckmorton case gone wrong, after all? 
Or worse things befallen? Come — out with it!” 

Buller got up. He was Burns’ best friend in the pro- 
fession — the two had stood together since the earliest days 
of medical school and hospital training. Buller was not 
a brilliant member of the healing fraternity, but a steady- 
going, conscientious, doggedly energetic practitioner on 
whose sturdy friendship through all the thick and thin of 
the regular grind Burns was accustomed to rely. Never a 
crisis in the professional affairs of either man but he called 


212 


A GREAT GASH 


213 

with confidence upon the bed-rock reliability of the other 
to see him through. 

On this particular morning, Red, bursting with the 
latest developments in the arrangements he was pushing 
through in order to be able to get away and join Dr. John 
Leaver at an American hospital in France, had rushed into 
BulleFs office considerably before office hours. He had 
shouted his plans into the other’s ears — so to speak — 
though technically he had not much raised his voice above 
its customary low professional pitch. The whole effect 
of him, none the less, had been that of a boy roaring at a 
comrade across several fences that he had been given a 
holiday and was off for glorious sport. And here was his 
trusty comrade-in-arms glowering gloomily back at him 
and as good as saying that he grudged him his luck and 
hoped he’d have the worst possible time of it. That wasn’t 
a bit like Buller — good old Buller, who hadn’t a selfish 
hair on his head, and knew no such thing as professional 
jealousy where R. P. Burns was concerned. What in the 
name of time was the matter with him ? 

“I’d no idea,” said Buller, at last, and hesitating 
strangely, “the thing had gone so far. I knew you thought 
of going, but ” 

“But what? Haven’t I been talking going for the last 
year and a half? And didn’t I call you up the other day 
when I got Jack Leaver’s cable and tell you I meant to 
put it through post-haste? Didn’t I ” 

“Yes, you've told me all about it. You’ll remember 
that I’ve said a good deal about the need for you right 
here, and my hope that you’d delay going a while yet. 
I think I said ” 

“I don’t know what you said,” Red broke in impa- 
tiently, interrupting Bullet’s slower speech in a way to 


RED AND BLACK 


214 

which the other was well used. ‘‘I was much too busy 
talking myself to notice what any idiot might be saying 
on lines like those. Good Lord! man, you knew Fd go the 
minute I got the chance. Why, Fm needed over there 
about sixteen thousand times more than I am here ” 

Buller shook his head, his unhappy eyes on the worn rug 
of his office floor. The shake of that head inflamed Red 
into wild speech, his fist clenched and brought down on 
BulleFs desk till bottles jumped and papers flew off into 
space. Then, suddenly, he brought himself up short. 

‘‘All right,” he growled. “Fve blown off. Now — ex- 
plain yourself, if you can — which I doubt. But I can at 
least give you the chance.” 

Buller cleared his throat. He ran his hand through 
the rapidly graying locks above his anxious brow, sat down 
at his desk again — as though it might be a little easier to 
say what he had to say in this customary seat of the 
judge delivering sentence — and looked unwillingly up at 
his friend. Red had moved up and closed in on him as 
he sat dov/n, towering over the desk like a defiant prisoner. 

“Get it over,” he commanded briefly. 

“Fll try to. Red, but — it’s hard to know how to begin. 
. . . . You — suppose you let me go over you, will 

you? — as a sort of preliminary to the examination the 
Government surgeons will give you.” 

“What for? Do you think I can’t pass? Is that what’s 
bothering you?” A relieved laugh came with the words. 
“Me?” He smote his broad chest with all the confidence 
in the world — and Buller winced at the gesture. “Why, 
Fm strong as an ox.” 

Buller opened a drawer and took out a stethoscope. 

“Well — you won’t mind ” he said, apologetically, and 

came around the desk as a man might who had to put a 


A GREAT GASH 215 

pistol to the head of a beloved dog, and was dreading the 
sound of the shot. 

“All right. But it’s about the foolest thing I ever knew 
you to put up to me.” Red pulled off his coat, stripped 
rapidly to the waist, and presented himself for the inquisi- 
tion. 

Two minutes of absolute silence succeeded during which 
Buller swallowed twice as if he were trying to get rid of his 
own palate. Then he stood up with his hand on Red’s 
shoulder. 

“I’m — awfully sorry, lad,” he said — and looked it, in u 
fashion the other could not doubt. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you — remember that little trouble you had two 
years ago?” 

“The— infection?” 

“Yes. It’s left its mark.” 

“What do you mean!^* 

“You’re all right for good solid hard work — here. Bui 
— 'you aren’t quite in condition to meet the — requirements 
of the Service. You — ^you couldn’t get by. Red.” 

Buller turned away, his chunky, square-fingered hand 
slightly unsteady as he put away the little tell-tale appa- 
ratus which had registered the hardest fact with which he 
had ever had to confront a patient — and a friend. There 
was a full minute’s silence behind him, while he deliberately 
kept his back turned, unwilling to witness the first coming 
to grips with the totally unsuspected revelation. Then: 

“ Do you mean to say my heart isn’t all right ? ” came in 
a queer, indignant tone which Buller knew meant only 
one thing: that Red minded nothing at all about his 
physical condition except as it was bound to affect the 
course upon which he had set out. 


2i6 


RED AND BLACK 


“Not — exactly.” 

“Oh, quit treating me like a scared patient. I know 
you think you heard ” 

“I did hear it, Red. There’s no possible doubt. It’s 
unquestionably the result of the infection of two years 
ago. We all knew it then. I knew I’d find it now. 
That’s why ” 

“I see. That’s why you’ve been advising me not to go. 
My place was here — knitting 

Duller was silent. His broad, kind face worked a little 
as the big figure crossed the room to the window. He 
could look up now — Red’s back was toward him. 

“Doesn’t the amount of work I stand up under, every 
earthly day and night, show that in spite of your blamed 
old dissection I could do a good job over there before I 
cash in — ^which, of course, may be indefinitely postponed ? 
Nobody knows better than you that a fellow can go on 
working like a fiend for years with the rottenest sort of 
heart, and never even suspect himself that there’s a thing 
wrong ” 

“I know.” Buller’s voice was gentle as a woman’s. 
“But — first you’ve got to pass the stifFest sort of Govern- 
ment tests. Red — and ” 

And I canX eh 

It was done — Max Buller’s job. He didn’t have to 
answer that last question — which was no question, as he 
well knew. There was finality in Red’s own voice; he had 
accepted the fact. He knew too well the uselessness of 
doubting Buller’s judgment — the other man was too well 
qualified professionally for that. Red knew, also, as well 
as if he had been told in plain language, precisely what his 
own condition must be. Out of the race he was — that 
was all there was to it. Still fit to carry heavy burdens. 


A GREAT GASH 


217 

capable of sustaining the old routine under the old terms, 
but unfit to take his place among the new runners on the 
new track, where the prize was to be greater than any 
he had ever won. And his splendid body, at that very 
minute, seemingly as perfect as it had ever been; every 
function, as far as he himself could be aware, in the smooth- 
est running order! He could not even be more than usually 
conscious of the beat of his own heart, so apparently 
undisturbed it was by this intolerable news; while his 
spirit, his unquenched spirit, was giving him the hardest 
tussle of his life. 

Buller was wrong — he must be wrong! He was “hearing 
things” that didn’t exist. Red wheeled about, the incon- 
sistent accusation on his lips. It died at sight of his 
friend. Buller was slouched down in his swivel-chair, 
his chin on his breast, his head propped on his hand. 
Quite clearly Buller was taking this thing as hard — • 
vicariously — as Red himself — as Buller usually took 
things that affected Red adversely. Oh, yes — the old 
boy knew — he couldn’t be fooled on a diagnosis like that. 
Red turned back to the window. It was all over — there 
was no possible appeal. . . . 

He went away almost immediately, and quite silently. 
There had been no torrent of speech since the blow actually 
went home. The red-headed surgeon with Celtic blood 
in his veins could be quiet enough when there was no use 
saying anything, as there certainly wasn’t now. 

Two days later Robert Black, hurrying down the street, 
traveling bag in hand, passed the office of Redfield Pepper 
Burns just as the doctor’s car drew up at the curb. Black 
turned, halted, and came up to the car. Red was sitting 
still in it, waiting for him, the unstopped motor throbbing 


21 8 


RED AND BLACK 


'quietly. Black hadn’t seen him for several days, but the 
last he knew Red had been deep in his preparation for an 
early departure. It was on Black’s lips to say, “How’s 
everything coming on?” — knowing that no other subject 
had any interest for Red compared with that. But Red 
spoke first. 

“You’ve got to know sooner or later,” he said, in his 
gruffest tone, “so you might as well know now. I’m not 
going over. That’s all. Can’t stop to talk about it.” 
And he set hand to gear-shift, and with a nod was off again, 
leaving Black standing looking after him, feeling as if 
something had hit him between the eyes. 

As he walked on, after a moment, his mind was busy 
vith the impressions it had received in that brief en- 
counter. Red’s face had been set and stern; it was often 
that when he was worn with work over more than usually 
hard cases. His eyes had looked straight at Black with 
his customary unevasive gaze, but — there had been some- 
thing strange in that look. He was unhappy — desperately 
unhappy, there could be no doubt about that. What 
could have happened so suddenly to put a spoke in the 
rapidly turning wheels of his plans ? Black fell to puzzling 
over it, himself growing every moment more disturbed. 
He cared tremendously what happened to Red; he found 
himself caring more and more with each succeeding 
thought about it. 

He was on his way to the station, to take a train for a 
distant city, where was to be held a reunion of his seminary 
class in the old halls of their training. He had been look- 
ing forward to it for weeks, in expectation of meeting cer- 
tain classmates whom he had not seen for six years, and 
some of whom he might never meet again. He had been 
exchanging letter after letter with them about it, and 


A GREAT GASH 219 

anticipating the event with the ardour with which most 
men look forward to such reunions at that period in life. 
There was nothing to do but go, of course; though by now 
he was longing intensely to follow up Red, by some means, 
and find out what was the matter. He hadn't liked the 
look in those hazel eyes, usually so full of spirit and pur-* 
pose; the more he thought about it the surer he grew thal 
Red was at some crisis in his life, and that he needed some- 
thing he hadn't got to help him face it. Of course he musC 
be horribly disappointed not to be going across, oh, des- 
perately disappointed! But there was more than that 
in the situation to make him look like that. Black was 
sure of it. 

His feet continued to move toward the station, his eyes 
lifting to the clock upon its tower, which warned him that 
he must lose no time. He had his ticket and a sleeper 
reservation — it was fifteen hours’ journey back to the 
old ivy-covered halls which had grown dearer in his memory 
with each succeeding year of his absence. He was think- 
ing that he couldn't disappoint Evans, his best friend, or 
Desboro, his old college chum who was going to China 
on the next ship that sailed; such appointments were 
sacred — the men would never quite forgive him if he threw 
them over. But this he could do: he could go on for 
the dinner which was to take place the following even- 
ing, and then catch a late train back, cutting the rest 
of the program, and reaching home again after only forty- 
eight hours’ interval; he had expected to be absent at 
least five days. No, he couldn’t, either. Desboro was 
on for an address, that second evening, for which he 
had expressed particular hope that Black would remain. 
Desboro was a sensitive chap and he was going to China, 
Well — what 


220 


RED AND BLACK 

His train had been called; those determined feet of his 
took him toward it, though his mind was now slowing them 
perceptibly. And then, suddenly, his will took charge 
of the matter — his will, and his love. He loved Red 
Pepper Burns — he knew it now, if he had not fully known 
it before; loved him even better than he did Desboro, or 
Evans, or any of the rest of them for whom he had cared 
so much in the old days. And Red was in trouble. Could 
he leave him to go on to hear Desboro’s speech, or wring 
Evans’ hand, or even to hear a certain one of his adored 
old professors say: “Fm especially glad to see you. Black 

— I want to hear all about you ” a probability he 

had been happily visualizing as worth the trip, though he 
should get nothing more out of it. 

He turned about face with determination, his decision 
made. What was a class reunion, with all its pleasures — 
and its disappointments, too — compared with standing 
by a friend who needed him ? The consciousness that Red 
was quite as likely to repel as to welcome him — more 
likely, at that — lent no hesitation to his steps. He went 
back to the ticket windows, succeeded in getting his money 
returned, and retraced his steps to the manse even more 
rapidly than he had come away from it. It was only 
as he let himself in at the door that he remembered that 
his little vacation was Mrs. Hodder’s as well, and that at 
his insistence she had left early that morning. He grinned 
rather ruefully at this thought; so it was to be burned 
toast and tinned beans again, instead of banquet food! 
Well, when a fellow was making sacrifices for a friend, let 
him make them and not permit the thought of a little lost 
food to make him hesitate. Banquets — and beans — inter- 
esting alliteration! And now — to find out about Red 
without loss of time. 


A GREAT GASH 


221 


Ten minutes later he was In Red’s home, standing, hat in 
hand, before Mrs. Burns, whohadcometohim without delay. 

‘T saw your husband just a minute this morning, and he 
told me it was all off with his going to France. That’s 
all he said — except that he had no time to talk about it. 
Of course I understood that he didn’t want me to talk about 
it. But something in his looks made me a little anxious. 
I thought you wouldn’t mind my coming to you. If you 
don’t want to tell me anything more, Mrs. Bums, that’s 
all right. But I wanted you to know that if anything has 
happened to make him — or you — unhappy, I care very 
much. And I wish I could help.” 

Ellen Burns looked up into his face, and saw there all 
that one could wish to see in a friend’s face when one is in 
trouble. She answered as frankly as he had spoken, and 
he couldn’t help seeing that his coming was a relief to her. 

‘T’m going to tell you, Mr. Black,” she said. She 
remained standing; Black thought it might be because she 
was too ill at ease in mind to think of sitting down. “I 
am anxious about Red, too, because he doesn’t seem at all 
himself, since this happened. Two days ago his good friend 
Doctor Buller told him there was no chance of his pass- 
ing the physical tests necessary for getting across, on ac- 
count of trouble with his heart — which he hadn’t even 
suspected. He was very ill with blood poisoning two 
years ago. The disappointment has been even greater 
than I could have imagined it would be; he has never set 
his heart on anything as he has on this chance to be of 
service in France. Of course I am disappointed, too — 
I meant to follow him soon, when we could arrange it. 
And — it goes without saying — that the reason which 
keeps him is a good deal of a blow to me.” 

‘‘Yes — of course.” 


222 


RED AND BLACK 

She was speaking very quietly, and with entire control 
of voice and manner, and the sympathetic understanding 
in his tone did not undermine her, because there was no 
weakness in it. 

“But — ^we have accepted it; there’s nothing else to do. 
Doctor Duller says it doesn’t mean that Red can’t go on 
working as hard as ever, for a long time — here. But that 
doesn’t help him any, just yet. He has been in — a mood — 
so dark ever since he knew, that even I can’t seem to 
lighten it. And just before you came I found — this. 
It — does make me anxious, Mr. Black, because I don’t 
quite know ” 

She put her hand into a fold of her dress and brought 
out a leaf from the daily memorandum pad with-a large 
sized date at the top, which was accustomed to lie on Red’s 
desk. He was in the habit of leaving upon it, each time he 
went out, a list of calls, or a statement regarding his where- 
abouts, that his office nurse or his wife might have no diffi- 
culty in finding him In case of need. In the present in- 
stance the page was well covered with the morning and 
afternoon lists of his regular rounds, including an early 
morning operation at the hospital. But the latest entry 
was of a different character. At the very bottom of the 
sheet, in the only space left, was scrawled the usual pre- 
liminary phrase, followed by a long and heavy dash, so 
that the effect of the whole was inevitably suggestive of a 
reckless mood: “Gone to ” 

Black studied this for some seconds before he lifted his 
eyes. “It may mean nothing at all,” he said, as quietly 
as Mrs. Burns had spoken, “except the reflection of his 
unhappiness. I can’t think it could mean anything else. 
Just the same” — and now he looked at the lovely face 
before him, to see in it that he might offer to do anything 


A GREAT GASH 223 

at all which could mean help for Red — “I think Fd like 
to find him for you — and I will. Fm sure I can, even 
though you don’t know where he has gone. Can you 
guess at all where it might be?” 

“He had the car,” she said, considering, “and he’s very 
apt, when things have gone wrong, to get off out of doors 
somewhere — alone — though he’s quite as likely to work 
off his trouble by driving at a furious pace over miles and 
miles of road. Fve known him to jump out of the car and 
dash off into the woods, in some place Fd never seen 
before, and come back all out of breath and laughing, and 
say he’d left it all behind. , I think, perhaps, that’s what 
he’s doing now. I hope he’ll come back laughing this time, 
though I — I can’t help wishing he’d taken me with him.” 

“I wish he had.” Black thought he had never seen a 
woman take a thing like this with so much sense and cour- 
age. How could Red have left her behind, he wondered, 
just now, when she could do so much for him? Or — 
couldn’t she? Could any woman, no matter how finely 
understanding, do for him quite what another man could — 
a man who would know better than any woman just what 
it must mean to have the foundations suddenly knocked 
out from under him like that ? “ But,” he went on quickly, 

“I don’t think it will be difficult to find him because — 
there’s a way. And Fm going now, to try it. Don’t be 
worried. I have a strong feeling that your husband is 
coming out of this a bigger man even than when it hit 
him — he’s that sort of man.” He was silent an instant, and 
then went on: “And he won’t do'anything God doesn’t 
mean him to do — because he isn’t that sort of man. He’s 
not afraid of death — but he isn’t afraid of life, either. 
Good-bye — it’s going to be all right.” 

They smiled at each other, heartened, both, by the 


224 red and black 

thought of action. Black got away at once. It was, by 
now, well after six o’clock. He had had no dinner, but it 
didn’t occur to him to look out for food before he started 
on the long walk he meant to take. For, somehow, he was 
suddenly quite sure he knew where to go. . . . 

He had guessed right. Was it a guess? As he had 
walked at his best speed out of the town and over the high- 
way toward the road upon which Red had taken him that 
winter night, months ago, he had been saying over and 
over, “Don’t let me be wrong. Lord — you know I’ve got 
to find him!” He was remembering something Red had 
said when he first led him up the trail and out upon the 
rocky little plateau: “This is a place I’ve never brought 
anybody to — not even my wife, as it happens — and prob- 
ably wouldn’t be bringing you if we had time to go farther. 
I come here sometimes — to thrash things out, or get rid 
of my ugly temper. The place is littered with my chips.” 

He recalled answering, “All right, Doctor. I won’t be 
looking for the chips.” But he had thoroughly appreciated 
being brought to the spot at all, recognizing it for one of 
those intimate places in a man’s experience which he keeps 
very much to himself. Where, now, would Red be so 
likely to go if he had something still to “thrash out,” 
after the two days of storm following the shock of Doctor 
Buller’s revelation? 

At the bottom of the hill, well-hidden in a thicket of 
trees. Black came upon the car — and suddenly slowed his 
pace. He was close upon Red, then, and about to thrust 
himself in where he was pretty sure not to be wanted — at 
first. He meant to make himself wanted, if he knew how. 
Did he know how ? Ah, that was where he must have help. 
It was going to take more than human wisdom, thus to 


A GREAT GASH 


225 

try to deal with the sore heart, the baffled spirit, of the 
man who couldn’t have his own way at what doubtless 
seemed to him the greatest moment of his life. Black 
stopped short, close to a great oak, and put up his arm 
against it, and hid his face in his arm, and asked God 
mightily that in this hour He would use His servant’s 
personality as He would use a tool in His workshop, and 
show him how to come as close and touch as gently — and 
withal as healingly— as it might be possible for human 
personality to do when backed and reinforced by the 
Divine. A pretty big request? Yes, but the need was 
big. And Black didn’t put it in any such exalted phrasing 
— remember that. What he said was just this: “Please 
let me help. I must help, for he needs me — and I don’t 
know how. But You do — and You can show me.” 

Then, after a minute, he went on, springing up the trail, 
which was plain enough now, even in the fading daylight, 
to be easily followed. As he reached the top he came in 
sight of Red through the trees, and stopped short, not so 
much to regain his breath as because the sight of the man 
he had come to find made his heart turn over in sympathy, 
and for that instant he couldn’t go on. 

Yet Red was in no dramatic attitude of despair. To 
the casual eye he would have looked as normal as man 
could look. He sat upon a log — one of two, facing each 
other, with a pile of blackened sticks and ashes between, 
reminiscent of past campfires. There had been no fire 
there recently — no spark lingered to tell the tale of warmth 
and light and comradeship that may be found in a fire. 
And what Red was doing was merely whittling a stick. 
Surely no tragedy was here, or fear of one. . . . The 

thing that told the tale, though, unmistakably, to Black’s 
sharpened eyes, was this: that the ground was littered 


226 


RED AND BLACK 


deep, all about Red’s feet, with the fresh whittllngs of 
many sticks. “Chips,” indeed! Chips out of his very 
life. Black knew they were; hewed away ruthlessly, with 
no regard as to what was left behind in the cutting, or what 
was made thereof. 

He could not stand and look on, unobserved, of course. 
So he came on, striding ahead; and when Red at last looked 
up it was to see Black advancing confidently, as a friend 
comes to join a friend. Red stared across the space; his 
eyes looked dazed, and a little bloodshot. 

“IVe come,” said Black, simply, “because. Red, I 
thought you needed me. Maybe you don’t want me, but 
I think you need me, and I’m hoping you won’t send me 
away. I don’t think I’ll go if you do.” 

Red’s odd, almost unseeing gaze returned to the stick 
in his hand. He cut away two or three more big chunks 
from it, leaving it an unsightly remnant; then flung it 
away, to join the other jagged remnants upon the 
ground. 

“Yes,” he said, In a hoarse voice quite unlike his own, 
“I guess maybe I do.” 

Black’s heart leaped. He had not expected a reception 
like this. To be kicked out — metaphorically — or to be 
ungraciously permitted to remain — that was the best he 
could have hoped for. He sat down upon the other 
log, took off his hat and ran his hand through the locks 
on his moist brow; he was both warm and tired, but he 
was not in the least conscious of either fact. All he knew 
or cared for was that he had found his man — and had his 
chance at last! And now that he had it — the chance he 
had so long wanted, to make this man he loved his friend 
forever — he was not thinking of that part of his wish at 
all. He had got beyond that; all he wanted now was to 


A GREAT GASH 


227 

see him through his trouble, though it might make him 
less his friend than ever. 

The two sat in silence for a minute. Then Red spoke. 
With an odd twist of the mouth he pointed to an axe 
lying at the foot of a tree not far away. Above it, in 
the trunk, showed a great fresh gash, the beginning of a 
skilled woodsman’s work upon a tree which he means to 
fell. 

‘T began to chop down that tree,” he said, in the same 
queer, hoarse voice. ‘‘That’s what I’ve always done — 
when the pressure got too high. Then — I remembered. 
If I chopped it down, I might — end things. There’s no 
telling. Buller says my machinery’s got past the chopping 
point — it’s time to take to whittling. So — I’m whittling 
‘—as you see.” 

“I see,” said Black. He spoke cheerfully — there was 
no pity in his voice. In his eyes — but Red was not looking 
at those. 

“That’s why,” went on Red, after a minute, “I’m not 
going to France. They don’t need whittlers over ther.'i.” 

“Do you think you’re a whittler?” 

“What else?” 

“You don’t look much like one — to me.” 

“Don’t say that to me!” challenged Red, with a touch 
of the old fire. “There’s no cure for my hurt in the 
thought that I can keep on working — over here — until 
the machinery breaks down entirely — ^which may not be 
for a good while yet. I want what I want — and I can’t 
have it. What I can have’s no good compared with 
that. It may look good to you — it doesn’t to me. That’s 
all there is of it.” 

“You don’t look like a whittler to me,” Black repeated, 
sturdily. “You look like a tree chopper. I can’t — and 


228 


RED AND BLACK 

won’t — think of you any other way. . . I wish you’d 

put up that knife!” 

Red stared at him. “Make you nervous?” he ques- 
tioned. 

‘‘It makes you nervous. Put it up. Play with the 
axe, if you like; that’s more in character.” 

The two looked each other in the eye for a minute. 
The clear gaze of Black met the bloodshot one of Red. 

“Here — I’ll get it for you,” offered Black, and got up 
and went over and picked up the axe, its blade shining, its 
edge keen as one of Red’s instruments. Black ran his 
fingers cautiously along it. “I suppose no surgeon ever 
owned a dull axe,” he commented, as he brought it to 
Red. “This would cut a hair, I think. Take it — and 
put up the knife to please me, will you?” 

“Anything to oblige.” Grimly Red accepted the axe, 
snapped the knife shut and dropped it into his pocket. 
“Anything else? Going to preach to me now with the axe 
for a text?” 

“I think so. I’m glad you’re ready. But the axe won’t 
do for a text — nor even for an illustration. I’ve got that 
here.” He put his hand to his pocket and drew out a 
little, worn, leather-bound Book, over which he looked 
with a keen, fearless gaze at Red. “See here,” he said. 
“I could try a lot of applied psychology leading up 
to this little Book — and you’d recognize, all the way, that 
that was what I was doing. What’s the use? When you 
go to see a patient, and know by the look of him and the 
few things he tells you what’s the matter, you don’t lead 
up by degrees to giving him the medicine he needs, do 
you? Not you! You write your prescription on the 
spot, and say Take this.’ And he takes it and gets 
well.” 


A GREAT GASH 


229 

“Or dies — if Fm out of luck. It isn’t the medicine that 
decides it, either way. It’s his own power of resistance. 
So your simile’s no good.” 

Black nodded. This sounded to him somewhat more 
like the old Red. “Yours is, then,” he said. “It’s your 
power of resistance I’m calling on. You used it just now — 
when you stopped chopping at that tree. Do you think 
I don’t know — you wanted to keep on, and take the pos- 
sible consequences — which you almost hoped — or thought 
you hoped — would be the probable ones.?” 

And now Red’s startled eyes met his. “My God!” he 
ejaculated, and got to his feet quickly, dropping the axe. 
He strode away among the trees for a minute, then came 
slowly back. 

“Do you think. Bob Black,” he demanded, “you dare 
tackle a case like mine? I see you know what I’m up 
against. Do you imagine there’s anything in that Book 
there that — fits my case?” And Black saw that his 
eyes looked hungrily at the little Book — as men’s eyes 
have looked since it was given shape. When there is 
nowhere else to go for wisdom, even the most unwonted 
hands open the Book — and find there what they honestly 
seek. 

“I know there is.” Black opened the Book — it fell open 
easily, as one much used. He looked along its pages, as 
one familiar with every line. It took but a moment to 
find the words he sought. In a clear, quiet voice he read 
the great, brave words of Paul the apostle: 

‘‘Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one 
receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. 

And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in 
all things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but 
we an incorruptibl®- 


230 RED AND BLACK 

I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one 
that beateth the air: 

But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection, lest 
that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself 
should be a castaway.” 

A long silence followed the reading of these words. 
Suddenly it had seemed to Robert Black that nothing he 
could say could possibly add to the splendid challenge of 
them to a flagging human spirit. Almost immediately 
upon reading the last word he had walked away — ^he had 
risen to read them, as if such words could be said only by a 
man upon his feet. He was gone for perhaps ten minutes, 
and all the while his heart was back there by the ashes of 
the dead campfire with Red — fighting alone, as a man 
must fight, no matter how his friend would help him. 
Somehow Black was sure that he zvas fighting — it was 
not in Red — it couldn’t be — to lay down his arms. 
Or, if he had in this one black hour laid them down, it 
would be to take them up again — it must be so. All 
Black’s own dogged will, plus his love and his faith in God 
and in this man, were back there in the woods with 
Red. 

By and by he went back himself. Red was no longer 
sitting on the log, he was standing by a tree, at the edge 
of the plateau, looking off through a narrow vista at the 
blue hills in the distance all but veiled now in the dimness 
of the coming night. At the sound of Black’s footsteps 
on the snapping twigs he turned. 

“Well, lad,” he said, in a weary voice which was yet 
quite his own, “I guess you’ve won out over my partic- 
ular personal devil this time. I have ‘preached to others’ — 
I expect I’ve got to stand by my own preaching now. It’s 
all right. I’d got too used to having my own way — or 


A GREAT GASH 231 

forcing it — that’s all. Fll try to take my medicine like 
a man. Tve been taking it — like a coward. Now — 
we’ll say no more about it.” 

“Not another word. Except — would you mind if I 
built a little fire, and burned up those chips.?” 

“ I wish you would.” 

With quick motions Black made a heap of them on the 
old campfire ashes, touched them off with the match Red 
silently handed him — he had matches of his own, but he 
took Red’s — and stood looking down into the curling 
flames. The clips burned as merrily and brilliantly as if 
they had not been the signs of human despair, and the 
two men watched till the small fire had burned down to a 
last orange glow of embers. 

Then Black, taking off his hat, said in a way so simple 
that the listening ears could not want to be stopped from 
the sound of the words: “Please, Lord, help us to run, 
'not uncertainly*' nor fight, as those that 'beat the air* 
Give us faith and courage for the long way — and bring us 
to the end of the course, by and by — but not till we have 
'run a good race * — all the way. Amen.” 

Still silently, after that, the two went down the trail, 
now in deep shadow. Red went first, to lead the way, 
and Black noted with joy that he plunged along down the 
trail with much his old vigour of step. At almost the bot- 
tom he suddenly halted and turned: 

“See here. Bob Black,” he said, accusingly. “I thought 
you were on your way to the station when I saw you this 
morning. Weren’t you off for those doings at your old 
Alma Mater you’ve been counting on ? ” 

“I changed my mind.” 

“What! After you saw me?” 

“Of course.” 


232 RED AND BLACK 

There was an instant’s stunned silence on the red-headed 
doctor’s part, broken by Black’s laugh. 

*^One would think you never gave up a play or a good 
dinner or almost anything you’d wanted, to go and set a 
broken leg — or to reduce a dislocated shoulder before 
breakfast!” 

But when Red finally spoke the hoarseness was back 
in his voice — only it seemed to be a different sort of 
hoarseness: 

What did you do it for?” 

“I think you know. Because I wanted to stand by 
you.” 

Red turned again, and began to go on down the trail. 
But at the bottom he once more stopped short. 

‘‘Lad,” he said, with some diffidence, “there’s a story 
in that Book of yours — the other part of it — that always 
interested me, only I didn’t think there were many ex- 
amples of that sort of standing by in present days. I 
begin to think there may be one or two.” 

“Which story is that?” Black asked, eagerly — though 
he concealed the eagerness. 

“That — I’ll have to leave you to guess!” said the other 
man — and said not another word all the way home. He 
sent the car at its swiftest pace along the road, took Black 
to his own door, held his hand for an instant in a hard 
grip, said “Good-night!” in his very gruffest tone, and 
left him. 

But Black had guessed. And he had won his friend — 
for good and all, now — he was sure of that. How could 
it be otherwise ? 


CHAPTER XIV 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 

My dear Robert Black: — 

Where do you suppose your letter reached me, telling me of 
your rapidly maturing plans to go to France? At a place not 
fifty miles away from you, where I have taken a small seaside 
cottage for the summer! Yes, I did it deliberately, hoping it 
might mean that I should see you often — for I have missed you 
more than I quite venture to tell you. And now — I am not to 
see you after all, for you are to be off at almost any time. My 
disappointment is as great as my pride in you — and my joy that 
you are responding to this greatest need of our time. I know you 
will fully understand this seeming paradox. 

Since I have no son to send — and you no mother to send you— 
and since, as you well know, you have come to seem more like a 
son to me than I could have thought possible after the loss of my 
own — ^won’t you spend at least a day with me — right away, lest 
your summons to join your regiment arrive sooner than you 
expect? Please wire or telephone me — as soon as you receive 
this, won’t you? — that you are coming. I have my faithful 
Sarah with me, so you are assured of certain good things to eat 
for which I recall your fondness. But I am very sure that 
I do not have [to bribe you to do this kind thing for an old 
woman who cares for you very much. I know that Scotch 
heart of yours — cool enough on the outside to deceive the very 
elect, but warm within with a great friendliness for all who 
need you. 

With the belief that a long talk together will do away with the 
need for a further exchange of letters just now, I am, as always, 
Faithfully and affectionately yours, 

Marie L’Armand Devoe. 


233 


RED AND BLACK 


234 

Sitting on the edge of his study desk Black had 
eagerly read this letter, written in a firm hand full of 
character, not at all indicative of its being the penman- 
ship of ‘‘an old woman.” His face had lighted with pleas- 
sure, and he had laid the letter down only to turn to con- 
sult his schedule of work for the week. This was Monday, 
the only day he was accustomed to try to keep free for 
himself — usually with small success, it must be acknowl- 
edged. But at least there was no engagement for the 
evening, and it was the only evening of the week of which 
that could be said. 

During the next half-hour he did some telephoning, 
held a brief interview with Mrs. Hodder, wrote a short 
letter, then was off for his train. He had decided to take 
a local into the city earlier than was necessary to make 
his connection, in order that he might be safely away be- 
fore anything happened to detain him. This would give 
him an hour to spare there before he could get the second 
train, which would bring him within walking distance of 
the little seaside village and his friend’s new summer homer 
He would call her up from the city; he had not yet had 
time to do it. He was glad of the extra hour in which to 
draw breath and congratulate himself that this Monday 
was to be a real day of rest. He was obliged to admit to 
himself that it would taste rather good. What with 
preaching and parish work doggedly kept up to the cus- 
tomary standard, while he had been at the same time deep 
in the involved details of securing his chance to go over- 
seas — which now was practically assured — he was feeling 
just a trifle played out on this warm July morning. 

Turning a corner just before he reached the station, 
he came suddenly upon Jane Ray. Though her answering 
smile was bright enough, he thought he saw in her face 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 235 

a reflection of the weariness of which he himself was mo- 
mently more conscious. The heat for several weeks now 
had been unusually trying. Jane had been quite as 
busy as Black himself with the arranging to dispose of her 
business preparatory to going abroad. She, too, had found 
■ — or made — her chance. It looked as if she might get 
off before any of them — except Cary, who was due to go 
now at any time. 

Black stopped short, in the shade of a great elm. 

‘T haven’t seen you for two weeks,” he said. “That 
ought to be excuse enough for stopping you now? I 
suppose you know Fve been around twice — only to find 
the shop locked, and the bell apparently out of commission, 
for it produced nobody.” 

“Fm sorry,” protested Jane. “I feund your card both 
times. If I hadn’t been so busy ” 

“I know.” He looked searchingly down into her face, 
and it seemed to him it certainly looked a little worn. 
Perhaps it was the lavender of the crisp linen dress which 
sent trying reflections into her usually warm-tinted cheeks. 
Perhaps it was the excessive heat, which incidentally was 
doing its best to make her smooth hair curl riotously about 
her ears in a particularly girlish fashion. “Yes, we’ve 
both been busy,” he agreed. “ But that doesn’t make two 
weeks seem any shorter to me. I’m going out of town 
for the day, but with your permission I’ll try that door- 
bell soon again. All at once, some day, either you or 
I will get that call, and then — think of all the things we’ll 
wish we had had time to say!” 

“Perhaps! Meanwhile, if you’re catching the 9:30, 
Mr. Black, let me warn you that the station clock is two 
minutes slow. I lost a train by it only yesterday.” 

Thus she had sent him olF, for even as she spoke the 


RED AND BLACK 


236 

whistle of the approaching local was heard down the line, 
and Black had only time to take a hasty leave of her and 
run to the platform, with no chance to buy his ticket. 

Standing on the rear platform, as the train went on — 
the inside of the car had been unbearably hot — he 
looked back down the long street and caught a glimpse of 
Jane’s lavender linen disappearing in the distance. He 
strained his eyes to see it, visualizing clearly the face into 
which he had just been looking. It was a face which had 
a way of coming before that vision of his many times when 
he was attempting to occupy himself with necessary work, 
and of interfering seriously, now and then, with his powers 
of concentration. There was something about the level 
lines of Jane’s eyebrows, the curve of her cheek, the shape 
of her mouth, which peculiarly haunted the memory, he 
had founcf. It was astonishingly easy, also, to recall the 
tones of her somewhat unusual voice, a voice with a ’cello- 
like low resonance in it; easy to recall it and easier yet 
to wish to hear it again. He found himself suffering from 
this wish just now, and rather poignantly. 

Whose fault was it that he had not seen Jane for two 
weeks? Since she must have known by his two calls that 
he wanted to see her, why hadn’t she let him know he 
might come again? The time was getting so horribly 
short — the call for one or other of them might come so 
soon. And then what? He was realizing keenly that 
when the chance of turning a corner and meeting her, of 
going to her shop and seeing her, of calling her upon the 
wire and hearing her — was gone, perhaps forever — well — 
suddenly the thought became insufferable. He must do 
something about it, and that at once! He must do it to- 
day. What could it be, since he was on his way out of 
town? 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 237 

His thoughts went on rapidly. He made a plan, a dar- 
ing one — rejected it as too daring — decided that it wasn’t 
half daring enough! What was the use of never doing 
anything because there might be some possible and remote 
reason why it wasn’t best.? This infinite and everlasting 
caution suddenly irked him — as it had many times before 
in his experience — irked him till it became unbearable. 
He would carry out his plan — his end of it. If Jane 

wouldn’t carry out her end Well, anyhow he would 

put it up to her. Thank heaven, he had that hour to 
spare; it made possible the thing he had in mind. 

The minute his train arrived in the city station he made 
haste to the telephone, and shortly had Jane’s shop on the 
wire, with Sue promising to call her mistress quickly. Then, 
he was talking fast, and he feared less convincingly than 
he could have wished, for Jane was objecting: 

*‘Why, Mr. Black — how can I? How could I, in any 
case? And now, with so little time! Besides — are you 
sure you And your friend — how can you know she ” 

Yes, this usually poised young business woman was 
certainly being a trifle incoherent. No doubt it was an 
extraordinary invitation she had received. It was small 
wonder she was hesitating, as each phase of it presented 
itself to her mind. Go with him, unbidden by his hostess, 
to spend the day with him at her seaside home? What a 
wild idea! But his eager voice broke in on her objections: 

‘T’m going to call up Mrs. Devoe right now, and I 
know as well as when I get her answer that she will wel- 
come you as heartily as you could ask. Why, she’s South- 
ern, you know, so any friend of mine And we’ll be back 

in the early evening. Why shouldn’t you go? I can’t 
see a possible reason why not. You wouldn’t hesitate, 
would you — if it were any other ” And here he, too. 


RED AND BLACK 


'238 

H 

became a victim of unfinished sentences, his anxiety to 
put the plan through Increasing, after the fashion of men, 
with her seeming reluctance to allow him to do it. ‘‘Listen, 
please. Miss Ray. If you’ll be making ready. I’ll call you 
again when I’ve had Mrs. Devoe — if I can get her quickly 
— and assure you of her personal invitation. If she is in 
the least reluctant — I’ll be honest and tell you so. You’ve 
forty minutes to make your train, if you don’t lose any 
time. Please!” 

But all he could get was a doubtful: “I can’t promise, 
Mr. Black — I can’t decide, all in an instant.” 

“Then — ^will you let me call you again, with Mrs. De- 
voe’s Invitation, if I get it in time? And will you call a 
taxi, so that if you decide ” 

A low and heart-warming laugh came to him over the 
wire: “Oh! — I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m going to 
hang up the receiver.” 

“Wait a minute! Will you be on the train? Won’t 
you take a chance? I may not get my friend in time to 
let you know, but I’ll surely have the message by the time 
you join me. Just remember — won’t you? — that — I’n* 
going to France pretty soon ” 

“Forgive me!” And the receiver clicked in his ear. 
It was high time. Two hurried people cannot talk over a 
telephone and not be using up minutes of which they have 
none too many. 

The next half-hour Black spent in a manner calculated 
both to warm his body and cool his spirit, if the latter 
could have been readily cooled. In a smoking-hot tele- 
phone booth he struggled with the intricacies of a system 
temporarily in a snarl — of course it would have happened 
on this particular morning. He did, at length, get Mrs. 
Devoe on the wire. He cut short, as courteously as he 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 239 

could, her rejoicings at the sound of his remembered voice, 
and put his question. He received the cordial consent he 
knew he should, though his reason told him she would have 
preferred to see him alone. He was sorry — he couldn’t 
help that — he would make it up to her as best he could. 
But have this one day with Jane he must, if it could be 
brought about. 

When he emerged from the booth at last it was much 
too late to get Jane, if she had left for her train. He 
might call up the shop and find out what had been her 
decision, and whether she was on her way, but somehow 
he preferred not to do that. Rather would he cherish the 
hope, until her train came in, that she was on it. Ten 
minutes more, and he would know. Meanwhile — he 
would try to cool off! Somehow — he had never been more 
stirred by a possibility — never so looked forward to seeing 
a train come in. If Jane would come, he felt that he 
should be almost happier than he could bear and not show 
it. If she did not come — how was he going to bear that? 
Suddenly all his fate seemed hanging in the balance. 
Absurd, when he had not the slightest intention of making 
a day of fate of it! He couldn’t do that; he had decided 
that long ago. It was only Jane’s friendship he had, or 
could ask to have; that was about the biggest thing he 
could want before he went away to the war. He was 
sure she felt that way, as well as he. Without talking 
about it at all, it had seemed to become understood be- 
tween them. Why, then, should he be so brought to a 
tension by these plans for the day? He hardly knew — 
except that he was becoming momentarily more anxious 
to have them go through, and to find Jane on that hot 
and dusty local and bear her away with him for one day to 
the sea breezes. There could be no possible reason why he 


240 RED AND BLACK 

shouldn’t do it, with his good friend at the other end to 
make it seemly. 

The train came in. It is probable that could Robert 
Black have caught a glimpse of the expression on his own 
face as he watched the stream of passengers getting off, 
he would have tried to look a shade less tense of eye and 
mouth! He was hoping, it must be confessed, that if 
Jane were there, there would be none of his parishioners 
coming in by that same train. If there were some of 
them aboard, however, he did not intend to attempt to 
cover his very obvious purpose of meeting Miss Ray. If 
there was one clause more emphatic than another in 
Black’s code, it was the one in which he set forth his right 
to do as his conscience and judgment sanctioned, provided 
he did so with absolute frankness and openness. But 
if he would brook no interference with his rights from 
others, neither would he tolerate intrigue or deceit on his 
own part. 

Nobody whom he knew got off — the long line of pas- 
sengers had thinned to a final straggler. When he had 
all but given her up, his heart sinking abominably — she 
appeared at the door of the car, evidently detained by a 
stranger asking information. . . . Was it the same 

weary Jane whom he had seen in the morning? It couldn’t 
be — this adorable young woman in the dark blue summer 
travelling garb, with the look about her he had always 
noted of having been just freshly turned out by a most 
capable personal maid. How did she manage it, she who 
was accustomed to set her hand to so many practical af- 
fairs? And how, especially, had she managed it this 
morning of all mornings, when in an incredibly short space 

of time Oh, well, it wasn’t that Black thought all these 

things out; he just drank in the vision of her, after his hour 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 241 

of uncertainty, and rejoiced that she was here — and that 
she looked like that! 

He smiled up at her, and she smiled back; it was like two 
chums meeting, he thought. He had grasped her hand 
before she was fairly down the last step of the car. The 
coming holiday suddenly had become a festival, now that 
she was here to share it. 

‘T oughtn’t to have come, you know,” she said, as they 
walked down the platform together. ‘T suppose that’s 
why I did come.” 

‘T don’t know any reason why you oughtn’t.” 

“ I do — a big one. But I’m going to forget it.” 

‘‘Please do. I appreciate your coming more than I can 
tell you.” 

He looked down at her, walking beside him among the 
throng of strangers, and experienced a curious and entirely 
new sense of possession. He was so accustomed to the 
necessity of steering a strictly neutral course where women 
were concerned, that to be off like this alone with this 
amazingly attractive and interesting member of what was 
to Black practically the forbidden class, was almost 
an unprecedented experience. He was astonished to find 
himself quite shaken with joy in the sense of her nearness, 
and in the knowledge that for this day, at least, he might 
be sure of many hours with her, never afterward to be for- 
gotten. Surely, that fact of the separation, so near at 
hand, which might so easily be for good and all, justified 
him in forcing the issue of this one day’s companionship, 
whatever might be its outcome. 

In the second train it was again too hot to think of tak- 
ing the fifty-minute ride in a stifling coach, and Black 
again sought the rear platform, found it unoccupied, and 
took Jane to it. The noise of the train made talking im- 


RED AND BLACK 


*242 

possible, and the pair swayed and clung to the rail in 
silent company until at length the journey was over. They 
alighted at a little breeze-swept station, the only passen- 
gers for this point, which Mrs. Devoe had told Black was 
a solitary one. 

‘‘Oh-h!” Jane drew a long, refreshed breath. “Isn’t 
this delicious? How grateful I am to you for making me 
come — now that I am here and feel this first wonder of 
sea air. It’s ages since I’ve taken the time to get within 
sight of the sea.” 

“Do you mean to say I made you come?” 

“Of course you did. Imposed your masculine will upon 
mine, and brought me whither I would not — which sounds 
scriptural, somehow — where did I get that phrase? All 
the time I was dressing I was saying to myself that I not 
only could not but would not. I am in the habit of making 
my own decisions. I really can’t account for it.” 

“I can. This is to be a day of days in both your ex- 
perience and mine — it was for us to have, together, before 
we go across where there can be no such days. Our friend- 
ship is a thing that demands a chance to talk both our 
alFairs over in a way we never can back there. Don’t 
you feel that?” 

“Yes — I suppose that was why I came. How straight- 
forwardly you put it — like your straightforward self! — 
Oh, how glorious this is!” 

Her head was up, she was walking sturdily erect beside 
him over a white road hard and smooth with ground clam- 
shells, that ideal road of the sea district. Far away 
stretched the salt marshes, with a low-lying gray cottage 
in the distance — the only one along a mile of coast. The 
breeze, direct from the ocean, made the temperature seem 
many degrees cooler than that of the inland left behind. 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 243 

'Tsn’t it? I haven’t known much about the sea since 
my early boyhood. I was born on the east coast of Scot- 
land, and used to tumble around in the surf half my time, 
wading or swimming. But that’s a pretty distant memory 
now. I suppose I still could swim — one couldn’t forget.” 

‘‘Oh, no — quite impossible. I was brought up to swim — 
and ride — but it’s years since I’ve done either. How I’d 
like to swim clear out into the blue over there! I suppose 
nothing so wonderful could happen to-day?” 

“ It might — for you, anyhow. Mrs. Devoe undoubtedly 
bathes here — she would have something to lend you.” 

“Oh! I somehow got the impression that she was an 
old lady.” 

Black laughed. “She calls herself old. As a matter 
of fact, she’s the youngest person I know. Her hair is 
perfectly white, but her eyes are unquestionably young — 
and very beautiful. She is vigorous as a girl, and full of 
the zest of life, though she insists she is old enough to be my 
mother. I suppose she must be, for she had a son who 
would have been my age if he’d lived. She is simply one 
of those remarkable women who never grow old — and 
her mind is one of the keenest I ever came up against. She 
has been a wonderful friend to me, as she was to everybody 
in my first parish, with her wealth, and her charm, and her 
generosity, though she was only there part of the time, for 
she’s a great traveller. You’ll like her — ^you can’t help 
it.” 

“I shall feel as if I were intruding horribly. She must 
want to have a long talk with you alone— of course she 
will. You must let me manage it, or I shall be sorry I 
came.” 

“I’ll let you, certainly — though I’ve no doubt she would 
manage it herself. She’s too clever to be defeated in get- 


RED AND BLACK 


244 

ting anything she wants as much as she and I both want 
that talk. So don’t imagine yourself intruding. There 
are few people who understand better the laws of friend- 
ship, human and Divine, and nothing could make her 
happier than to know that Fve found another friend. 
She’s always insisted that there were many people in 
the world who knew what real friendship meant, but 
I’ve doubted it. I still doubt it — in a way — but not 
as I did before.” 

Thus the day began for them, with an entirely frank 
understanding that before it was over they were to know 
pretty well on what ground they stood. High ground it 
was to be, no question of that. There was no hint in 
Black’s language or in his manner of intended love-making, 
but his intense interest both in the subject before them 
and in Jane herself was very evident. It was quite 
enough to make the day a vivid one for any such man 
and woman. There are those who feel that there come 
hours when the expression of the best and finest friendship 
may surpass in beauty and in quality the more intimate 
revelations of a declared love. However that may be, 
it can hardly be denied that the early approaches of 
one spirit to another may contain an exquisite and 
unapproachable surprise and joy, to remain in 
memory in the whitest light that shines in a world 
of shadow. 

There is no space to tell the whole story of that day. 
Of the arrival at the cottage — hardly a cottage, it stretched 
so far its long gray porches in a roomy hospitality — it 
can only be said that its welcome proved as friendly as 
the personality of its hostess. Mrs. Devoe put both arms 
about the shoulders of Robert Black, greeting him as a 
mother might have done. She gave Jane one smiling 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 


245 

survey of discerning sweetness, said to Black, “She*s just 
what I should expect a friend of yours to be, my dear,” 
and bore Jane off to extend to her every comfort a traveller 
on a July day might need. Returning, having left Jane 
for the moment in a cool guest room, she questioned the 
man as one who must know her ground. 

‘‘How much does this mean, and just what do you want 
of me, Robert?” 

“I don’t know quite what it means, Mrs. Devoe — ex- 
cept that she and I like very much to be together — and 
we are both going to France soon. It may be a very long 
time before we can spend a day together again. It seemed 
to me we had to have the day. And all I want of you is to 
let me have part of it with you — and part of it with her — 
and understand that Fm so glad to be near someone who 
feels like a mother that Fd have come five times as far for 
one hour with you.” 

She nodded. “I know. We have missed each other. 
But before we begin our talk — it’s just the hour for the 
morning swim. Will you and Miss Ray go in, while I 
sit on the beach under my big sun umbrella and watch 
you ? Fm not going in now; I had an early morning dip.” 

“Can you manage it — for me?” 

“Of course. I keep several extra suits here, and Sarah 
has them all in the nicest order for guests.” 

It was more than he could have imagined hoping for 
when the subject was first mentioned. What could have 
been more glorious than to dash down the beach, and find 
Jane, in the prettiest little blue-and-gray swimming clothes 
in the world, already floating out on the crest of a great 
wave? All his early sea training came back to him as he 
plunged under a lazy comber, and swam eagerly out to join 
the blue-and-gray figure with the white' arms and the 


246 RED AND BLACK 

wonderful laugh he had never heard make such music from 
her lips before. 

‘"If not another thing happens to-day, this will have 
made it quite perfect,’’ Jane declared, swimming with 
smooth strokes by his side toward shore, after a half hour 
of alternate work and play in the blue depths. 

“It certainly will. I’m a new man already — feel like a 
sea-god, in spite of aching muscles. It takes an entirely 
new set to swim with, doesn’t it?” 

“Absolutely. What a pity one can’t have swimming 
pools brought to one’s door, like fish, when the wish takes 
one, on a July day. What a dear your Mrs. Devoe is 
to think of this the very instant we appear. I don’t 
wonder you love her, she’s so very attractive to look at, 
and so young, in spite of her years.” 

“There’s nobody like her — you’ll be confident of that 
when you’ve known her just one day. What I owe her — I 
could never tell you — and hardly myself.” 

Jane was sure of it. She began to understand at once 
certain qualities she had long since noted in Robert 
Black. The explanation now was easy: he had been um 
der unconscious training from Mrs. Devoe, his friend. She 
had been to him, for those five years during which he had 
served his first parish, not only the mother he had missed 
but the stimulus he had needed to bring out his best attri- 
butes of mind and heart. That she had done this for 
many another, first and last, lessened not a whit his debt 
to her. Somehow he had never been more conscious of 
this debt than he was to-day, upon seeing her again after 
the interval of more than a year. 

After luncheon — a refreshing affair partaken of on the 
airy end of the seaside porch — Black had his hour with 
Mrs. Devoe while Jane wandered off down the beach, 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 247 

taking herself out of sight and sound around a rocky curve . 
In spite of his eagerness to be with Jane, Black enjoyed 
that hour to the full, for it meant that he could pour out 
to this perfect confidante the story of his year amid the 
new surroundings, and feel as of old her understanding and 
sympathy, as well as experience afresh her power to show 
him where he lacked. But it was only for a little that 
they discussed the affairs of the new parish; both were too 
full of the bigger challenge to service Black had received, 
and all that it might mean. France! That was the burden 
of their talk together, and when it ended both were glowing 
with the stimulus each had received from the other. 

“I may go myself,” Mrs. Devoe said, looking off long- 
ingly across the sparkling blue waters as she rose from her 
low porch chair, at the end of the hour, ready to send her 
companion off before he should want to go — one of the 
little secrets of her charm, perhaps! “Why shouldn’t 
I spend one or two of the last of my active years in work 
like that.? Many women of my age are in service over 
there — and I can manage things — and people, can’t I, 
Robert? — and get any amount of work out of them with- 
out making them cross at me!” 

Her beautiful eyes were sparkling as they met his. 

“You can do anything,” he said with reverence. “If 
you should choose to do that, it would be the greatest 
service of a life that has been just one long service.” 

“Ah, you’ve always thought too well of me. If I’ve 
loved my fellowmen — and women — it’s because I’ve found 
that there’s nothing in life but that — and the love of their 
Maker. I’ve been selfish, really, for I never gave without 
getting back ten — twenty — a hundred fold.” 

“There’s a reason for that,” he said with a sn?ile. 

She sent him away then, pointing in the direction 


RED AND BLACK 


248 

Jane had gone. He went almost reluctantly — which was 
perhaps the greatest tribute to her hold upon him he could 
have given her. In truth she was the only woman of 
any age he had ever known intimately, and to go back to 
Jane, from her, was like leaving home to adventure in the 
unknown. 

But the unknown has its lure for any man — and this 
particular unknown drew Robert Black with rapid foot- 
steps once he had started in its direction. He had quite a 
walk before he came upon her, for Jane had gone on and 
on, following curve after curve of the shore, around one 
rocky barrier after another. When he caught sight of her 
at last she was standing upon a great rock, in the shadow 
of the cliff towering above her, watching a distant ship 
which was almost hull down upon the horizon. 

Young and strong and intensely vital she looked to him 
as she stood there, her face and figure outlined in profile 
against the dark cliff. The morning swim and the sea 
air had brought all its most vivid colouring into her face; 
the light breeze blew her skirts back from her lithe limbs; 
she might have been posed for a statue of. Liberty, or 
Victory, or anything symbolic of ardent purpose. And 
yet he was sure it was no pose, for she did not hold it an 
instant after his call to her, but came running down the 
sloping rocks with the sure foot of youth and perfect 
health, her voice that of warm joy in the hour. 

“Oh, IVe not been so happy in months — years!” she 
cried. “I don’t know why. It’s just sheer delight in be- 
ing alive, I think, in the midst of all this wonder of sea 
and sky and air. How can I ever thank you for bringing 
me down here? It was what I needed to put the breath 
of life back into me, after all these weeks of work and 
bother over closing up and getting away. This morning. 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 


249 

when you met me, I almost didn’t want to go to France — 
can you believe that? — after all my preparation! And 
now — oh! I’ve just been standing here watching that 
ship go out, and imagining myself on her, with the ocean 
breeze blowing in my face as it’s been blowing here — only 
stifFer and stronger as we got farther and farther out. 
And now — I can hardly wait to go!” 

He looked into her face, and met her eyes — and gave her 
back her radiant smile. And then, suddenly, he didn’t 
feel at all like smiling. Rather, his heart began to sink 
at thought of the separation so near at hand. 

**Come, please,” he said, ‘‘let’s sit down over here in 
the shade, though you look just now as if you belonged 
nowhere but in the brightest sunshine. I want to talk 
it all out. And this is our hour.” 

He found a seat for her where she could lean against 
a smooth rock. Then he took his own place, just below 
her and a little farther back, so that as they both looked 
out to sea he could study her side face — if she did not turn 
it too far away. It was rather clever of him, and highly 
characteristic, if he had known It, of the male mind when 
making its arrangements for a critical interview. Jane 
might easily have defeated him in It, but she did not. 
Perhaps she knew that to talk as freely as he seemed to 
want to talk he must have a little the advantage of her 
as to the chance for observation. 

“I don’t know why it is,” he began, slowly, and with 
astonishing directness, much as he was accustomed to do 
everything, “ but It seems to me that the only way I can 
possibly make clear to you something you must know, is 
just simply to state it — and ask your help. I’ve thought 
of every other way, and I find I don’t know how to use 
them. I haven’t been brought up to feel my way, J F'^ve 


250 RED AND BLACK 

to cut a straight path. So — Fm going to tell you that— > 
I find it very hard not to ask you to marry me, because 
I never wanted to do anything as I want to do that. 

I think it is your right to know that I want to do it — and 
why I — can’t.’^ 

There was an instant’s silence, while Jane gazed steadily 
out to sea, her side face, as he looked hard and anxiously 
at it, that of one who had received no shock of surprise 
or sorrow. Instead, a shadow of a smile slowly curved the 
corners of her sweet, characterful mouth. 

“Thank you, Robert Black,” she said, without turning 
toward him at all. “Whatever else I have or don’t have, 
in life, I shall always have that to remember — that you 
wanted me. But of course I know, quite as well as you 
do, that you are not for me — nor I for you. I have under- 
stood that perfectly, all along. You really didn’t have 
to tell me. But — I can’t help being glad you did.” 

And now, indeed, there fell a silence. Where was the 
“talk” Black had thought he was to have, carefully un- 
folding to her the reasons — or rather the great reason — 
why he couldn’t ask her for herself, but only for her lasting 
friendship — for this was what he meant to ask for, in full 
measure. Was it all said, in those few words.? It seemed 
so — and more than said. There was nothing to explain — 
she understood, and accepted his decision. That was all 
there was of it. Was it.? 

As he sat there, staring out at the incoming waves, each 
seeming to wash a little higher on the beach than the last, 
her simple words all at once took on new meaning. Why 
was she glad he had told her? Why should she say that 
she had that to remember ? — as if it were something very 
precious to remember.? No real woman could be so glad 
as that just to hear a man say he wanted her — even though 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 251 

he could not have her — unless Yes, there was revela- 

tion in those words of hers — even quiet, straightforward 
confession, such as his straightforwardness called for. He 
had virtually told her that he loved her, though he had 
carefully refrained from using the phrase which is wont 
to unlock the doors of restraint. Well, in return, she had 
virtually told him — ^yes, hadn’t she.? — else why should she 
be glad of his words to remember? 

The thought shook him, as he had never dreamed he 
could be shaken. He had believed he could keep firm 
hold of himself throughout this interview, in which he was 
to tell a woman that in asking for nothing but her friend- 
ship he was withholding the greater asking only because 
he must. But now that he knew — or thought he knew — • 

that she cared, too Suddenly he drew a great breath 

of pain and longing, and folded his arms upon his knees 
which were drawn up before him, and laid his head down 
upon them. 

After a minute J ane spoke : ‘‘ Don’t mind — too much,’^ 

she said, and the sound of her low voice thrilled him 
through and through. “ It’s a great deal just to know that 
the biggest thing there is has come to one, even though 
one can’t have it to keep. And yet, in a way, one can 
have it to keep. I have something to take with me to 
France now — that I couldn’t have hoped to have. Per- 
haps you have something, too. I am trying to give it to 
you, without actually saying it — ^just as you have given 
it to me without actually saying it. I think that’s only 
fair. And I want you to know that I do perfectly under- 
stand why you can’t say more. You can no more ask me 
to marry you than — I could marry you, if you did ask me. 
For I couldn’t — Robert Black — even though ” 

He lifted his head, his eyes full of a wild will to know 


252 RED AND BLACK 

what she would say. ‘*Even though — what?^* he asked^ 
in a voice which would not be denied. 

“Why should I say — ^what you do not?” she asked, with 
that strange little smile of hers. 

“ I thought I mustn't say it. But now that you Oh, 

ril say it, if you want to hear it.” 

“I do. You might at least give me that to keep, too.” 
“Oh!” He turned and looked straight into her up- 
lifted eyes. Then he said the words — that he had thought 
he wouldn’t say. And he heard the answer. After that 
he didn’t know how time passed, because there seemed to 
be no time any more — ^just eternity, which was soon to 
separate them. 

Then, all at once: “Jane,” he said, heavily, “perhaps 
some time — ^when you have been through — what you will 

go through over there ” 

She shook her head. “It would never make me — ^what 
I should have to be to fill the place your wife must fill. 
You couldn’t have a hypocrite taking that place — and I 
couldn’t play the part of one. There’s a great gulf fixed 
between us — no doubt of that. I can’t accept your be- 
liefs — and you can’t accept my — lack of them. It will 
always be so. As long as I can never say a prayer — and 

as long as you live by prayer ” 

“Do you remember,” he asked, “how glad you were 
to have a prayer said over Sadie Dunstan ? ” 

She nodded. “ Because it meant the difiPerence between 
custom and outrageous ignoring of custom. And I liked 
the prayer, and respected your belief in it. But — I didn’t 
for a moment think any one but ourselves heard it.” 

“Sometime,” he said again, sturdily, “you will pray, 
and be glad to pray. And you will know that Someone 
hears.” 


SOMETHING TO REMEMBER 253 

“When I do” — ^her voice softened incredibly — “I will 
let you know. And — in a way — it isn’t true when I say 
that I don’t believe in prayer, because — I could so easily, 
this very minute — pray to — you*^ 

“To me!” he repeated unsteadily and incredulously. 
“For what?” 

“For what — ^you think — you mustn’t give me. Yet 
— since we are going so far away from each other — so soon 
— and — since — the kind of chaplain you will be is just as 
likely to get — a bullet through his splendid heart as any 
other man — I almost think — ^you might give it to me. 

It is ” He had to bend to catch the words, the heart she 

had mentioned beating like mad in his breast with what 
might almost have been a bullet through it, for the shock 
of it. “It is — so little for you to give — and so much — 
for me — to have ! And I know — ^with your dreadful Scotch 
ideas of what mustn’t be, you will never, never think 

you can give it to me unless I — pray for it ” 

He was still as a statue, except for his difficult breathing, 
while she waited, her head down and turned away, a won- 
derful deep flush overspreading all her cheek and neck. 
Then, at last, he spoke, in a whisper: 

“ It isn’t Hittle for me to give/ It’s — all I have. — I didn’t 
think — didn’t dream — I could give it to you unless I gave 

you — myself with it. But ” 

She looked up then. Her lips were smiling a little, and 
her eyes were full of tears — it was a glorious face she 
showed him. 

“ I always knew the Scotch were cautious,” she breathed, 
“ and sometimes a trifle — close. But I didn’t think they 
would hesitate so over a ‘bit gift’ — ^when — they were 

withholding — so much ” 

She hadn’t finished the words before his lips met hers. 


254 red and black 

And when this had happened^ it was she who got swiftly 
to her feet. He rose also, but more slowly, and with a 
strange film across his eyes. 

“Now,” she said, breathing a little quickly, but with 
the old control coming back long before he could get hold 
of his, “we’re quite all right, I think. We’re on a firm 
basis of friendship for the rest of our days, and every- 
thing completely understood. It goes without saying 
that this was — something to remembeVy and only that. 
Shall we ” 

But Robert Black reached out and caught her hand. 

“Jane,” he said, “I want you to listen — ^listen with 
your heart, not with your reason.” 

Then, with his head bared, he lifted it, as he had lifted 
it in the woods with Red. “O my God,” he said, “teach 
her — show her — somehow — ^Thyself. For she must learn, 
and I can’t teach — this. Over there, if not here — show 
her that she is all wrong, and that Thou art real, and 
Warer than breathing, nearer than hands and feet.’ 
Until then — keep her safe — for me,^* 

He opened his eyes. Jane was staring straight out to 
sea, and on her face was he knew not what of mingled long- 
ing, appeal, and protest. Her fine brows were drawn to- 
gether, her lips were caught between her beautiful white 
teeth. She turned upon him. 

“Robert Black,” she said, low and fiercely, ‘^I’ll never 
say I believe God heard that — oh, yes, I know there is a 
God — but I’ll never say I believe He heard, or cared — 
until I do believe it, not even if it would give me — you.” 

“And I,” answered Robert Black, steadily, “would 
never ask you to say it till you do believe it — not even 
if it would give me — ^you!” 


CHAPTER XV 
QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 
HERE away, Miss Lockhart? May I come along 



a bit?” 


Nan turned, to see Cary Ray’s tall figure falling into 
step beside her, his clean-cut face wearing the look of intent 
purpose which was now so marked upon it. 

*‘Of course you may. Fm going to the station to nieet 
Fanny. You knew her uncle died, and she went West to 
the funeral? She’s coming back to stay a few more days 
with me before she goes to join her mother.” 

‘‘I heard about the uncle. Is it a serious loss for her?” 
believe he supplied Mrs. Fitch and Fanny with most 
of their funds, but I think they seldom saw him. He was 
rather eccentric and a good deal of a recluse.” 

‘‘Let’s hope the funds continue, anyhow,” said Cary, 
lightly, “in the shape of a big bequest. That will alleviate 
the sense of loss, besides providing a tender memory. 
These recluse uncles with large bank accounts and generous 
dispositions are all too uncommon — I never saw the 
shadow of one. If I only had one now! How I’d leap 
to make him a farewell visit — in uniform — if I ever get 
mine. I’m mightily afraid I shan’t get it, by the way, 
till I’m about to sail, so I’ll have no chance to strut around 
this town and call on you all with an air of conscious 
modesty.” _ 


/‘Too bad,” laughed Nan. “ But we’re quite sufficiently 
2SS 


RED AND BLACK 


256 

impressed now just by the knowledge that you’ll soon 
be off. What is the war correspondent’s insignia, do you 
know?” 

‘'Two fountain pens, crossed, on the collar, and a large 
splotch of ink on the left sleeve,” announced Cary, 
promptly. “Also, in time, presumably, a three-cornered 
tear over the right knee, and a couple of black eyes, from 
trying to push to the rear out of danger while rapidly 
taking notes on what a highly developed imagination 
assures him is undoubtedly occurring at the front.” 

“Great! My imagination, though not so highly de- 
veloped, pictures a quite different scene. . . Oh, isn’t 

that the train coming in?” 

“It is. The station clock lies, as usual. We must 
sprint for it if we want to be on the platform.” 

They quickened their steps, and were in time to see 
Frances Fitch appear in the vestibule of her car, and to 
stare up at her with surprised and — at least in Cary’s case 
— appreciative eyes. 

“Oh, Fanny!” It was Nan Lockhart’s inner cry to her 
incomprehensible friend, though her lips made no com- 
ment. “How could you? Don’t you think we must 
know you’re acting? You don’t care enough for that.” 

For Fanny was apparently in mourning, certainly in 
black, the most simple but effective black the eye and hand 
of skilled dressmaker and milliner could conceive, and in 
it she was undeniably a picture. Not all the cunning 
frills and artful colour combinations of her former dressing 
could approach in the setting forth of her blonde beauty 
the unrelieved black silks and misty chiffons of this new 
garb. To Nan’s sophisticated eye Fanny’s mourning was 
something of a travesty, for it was all of materials not 
ordinarily considered available for the trappings of woe; 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 257 

but It was undoubtedly only the more effective for that. 
Perhaps, Nan acknowledged, in that first quick glance, 
it represented the precise shade of honour due' a recluse 
uncle who had been represented in his niece’s life prin- 
cipally by monthly cheques and not at all by intimate 
association. 

“My word, but she’s a ripping beauty in that black, 
isn’t she?” came from Cary Ray under his breath, as he 
waved an eager greeting at the girl above him, and re- 
ceived an answering smile slightly touched with pensive- 
ness. “Looks as if she’d been pretty unhappy, too. He 
was about all she had in the world, anyhow, wasn’t he? — 
except the invalid mother. Poor girl!” 

Nan smothered a sigh. Thus was Fanny wont to carry 
off the interest and sympathy of the spectator, whatever 
she did, on the stage or off it — if she was ever really off 
the stage. Miss Lockhart now spoke sternly to her inner 
self: “Don’t be a prig, Nancy! Admit she’s perfectly 
stunning to look at, and she has the right to mourn her 
uncle if she wants to. She didn’t have to make a dowd 
of herself to do it, just so other women wouldn’t be en- 
vious.” 

“Yes, she is a beauty,” she answered, in her usual 
generous way. “And I’m sure it was a great loss.” 

And then she found herself almost instantly a super- 
numerary, as she was quite accustomed to be when with 
her friend in the company of any man on earth. After 
one ardent embrace, during which Fanny murmured the 
most affectionate of greetings in her ear — “You old dar- 
ling — ^what it means to get back to you !’* — it was Cary 
to whom the newcomer turned, and toward whom she 
remained turned — so to speak — throughout the walk 
home. Nan had to concede to herself, as she kept pace 


RED AND BLACK 


258 

with the pair beside her, that Cary was doing his part 
most thoroughly, and that Fanny could not justly be 
blamed for giving him her attention. Before they had 
reached the house it began to look to Nan as if Fanny’s 
mourning had gone to Cary’s head! 

She left them in the library, knowing well what was 
expected of her, and went upstairs wondering, as she had 
wondered a thousand times before, just why she cared so 
much for Fanny Fitch. And then, as a thousand times 
before, she found the explanation. To do Fanny entire 
justice, she was not one of the girls who find no time or 
taste for others of their own sex. Nobody could be more 
fascinating than she to Nan herself, when quite alone with 
her. Never down at heel or ragged at elbow in moments 
of privacy, always making herself charming from sheer 
love of her own alluring image in the mirror, capable of 
the most clever and entertaining talk when the mood took 
her, though there might be no man’s eye or ear within reach 
— it was impossible not indeed quite to adore her. Nan’s 
soberer yet highly intelligent self found a curiously satisfy- 
ing complement at times in Fanny’s lighter but far more 
versatile personality. It was only when the more irre- 
sponsible and reckless side of the other girl’s nature came 
uppermost that Nan found herself critical and sometimes 
deeply disapproving and resentful. 

It was a full hour before Fanny came upstairs. Nan 
had been waiting for her in the guest’s room, where she 
had had the luggage taken. As Fanny came in, the look 
of her struck Nan afresh as being past all precedent at- 
tractive and appealing. Her colour was now heightened, 
evidently by the interview with Cary, and her eyes were 
full of all manner of strange lights. She had not yet re- 
moved her hat, and somehow the whole effect of her was 


259 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 

that of one poised but a moment at a resting place on a 
journey full of both excitement and peril. 

The two met in the middle of the large and airy room. 

‘‘Well, dear — and aren’t you going to take off your hat 
and settle down?” Nan put up her hand to remove the 
demurely becoming hat in question. “Why didn’t you 
take it off downstairs and rest your head ?” 

“I felt better armoured for defense with it. Never" mind 
taking it off — I’m going out again.” 

“Did you need defense, then?” 

“Doesn’t one, when a determined young man wants to 
marry one out of hand? I’ve only succeeded in putting 
him off for an hour or two, at that. He says he may go 
any day, and on seeing me just now he realized he couldn’t 
go without leaving me behind securely tied. What do 
you think of that, for a poor girl just from a funeral, to 
be confronted with a wedding?” 

“But, Fanny ” 

“That’s what I said — ‘But, Cary ’ In fact, I never 

got further than that, though I tried it ten times over.” 

“But did you — give him any encouragement?” 

“Did I? Well, now, knowing me — as you think you 
do — ^what’s your idea of it?” 

Nan studied her, without answering. Her gaze dropped 
from Fanny’s face to her black-clad shoulder, then sud- 
denly she put her arm about that shoulder. 

“I’m forgetting,” she said, gravely, “that you have lost 
a friend. I’m sorry. Somehow I didn’t expect to see 
you in black, and can’t yet realize that it means bereave- 
ment.” 

“What a subtle way of telling me that my particular 
kind of black doesn’t wholly suggest bereavement! Well, 
my dear — it seemed to me only decent to show some re- 


26 o 


RED AND BLACK 

spect to an old man who has been very decent to me, and 
left me enough to buy silk stockings and pumps in which 
to mourn him, to say nothing of other accessories. I 
don’t think he would have approved of henrietta cloth 
and crepe — and besides — what Fm wearing suits me 
better, don’t you think.? How do you imagine it will 
impress the Reverend Robert? Fve already noted its 
effect on one young man. Can I hope to make another 
lose his head within the hour?” 

Fanny walked over to the mirror and gave a touch or 
two to her hair beneath the black hat brim. Nan’s eyes 
still followed her. 

“ I ought to be used to your breath-taking statements,” 
Nan observed, uneasily, “but I probably never shall be 
any more than I can become used to the covering up of 
what I know is your real self with all this pretense of 
lightness. You are sorry you have lost your uncle, but 
one would never guess it. And you care — or don’t care — 
for Cary Ray, and I haven’t an idea which. As for — 

the crazy things you’ve said all along about ” 

“Don’t hesitate to mention his name — I adore hearing 
it. And Fm going to pronounce it myself to its owner 
this very hour — if he’s at home. That’s why Fm keeping 
on my hat. And why — ” Fanny dived into a small 
and chastely elegant black leather travelling bag, and 
after a moment’s searching brought forth two filmily fine 
handkerchiefs which she tucked away in her dress — “why 
T am providing myself with the wherewithal to weep upon. 
I have no doubt that what the Reverend Robert says to 
me will bring forth tears, and I want to be prepared. But 

whether tears of joy or sorrow ” 

“Fanny! You’re not — going to him?” 

“My beloved Annette, the number of times in the course 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 261 

of my acquaintance with you that you have pronounced 
the word ^Fanny!’ in precisely that tone of expostulatory 
shock couldn’t be numbered! — I am going to him — since 
I don’t know any way of making him come to me. Cary 
happened to say that Mr. Black also was liable to be 
called at any hour, and I dare not delay. I want to have 
an important — very important — ^interview with him 
while my courage is high. I told you, some time ago, that 
I should find a way, and I’ve found it. Wish me good 
luck!” 

That was all there was to it. Although Nan Lockhart" 
was more than anxious as to what might underlie Fanny’s 
mystifying language, she could not doubt, when Fanny 
presently set forth from the house, that she was going, as 
she had declared, to the manse. It was by now four in 
the afternoon. Nan had offered to accompany her friend, 
saying that she thought, if Fanny must go, that she would 
best not go alone. She had been told that she was a 
meddling old granny, and that her place was by the fire- 
side. So — ^with a kiss — Miss Fitch had walked away, and 
as Nan anxiously watched her go down the street she had 
been forced to admit to herself, as she had admitted many 
times before, that there was an unexplainable and irresisti- 
ble witchery about Fanny, and that there could be little 
doubt that somebody was in danger. She wondered 
which of them it was — if any could be in greater danger 
than Fanny herself. 

The master of the manse was at home when his bell 
rang presently, so it fell out, though ten minutes^ before 
he had not been there, nor would have been ten minutes 
later. He had rushed in for a certain book he wanted, 
and was just within his own front door when he heard the 
bell. He opened it, his thoughts upon the book in his 


262 


RED AND BLACK 


hand — It was one on Minor Tactics/’ by the way, and 
he wanted it for one of his boys. So he confronted his 
caller with no means of escape — if he had wanted any. 
Why mortal man should wish to escape from the vision 
of sad-eyed beauty which awaited him upon his doorstep 
none who had seen her there could say — certainly not 
Cary Ray, who had seen her there, and who was now 
stalking angrily up and down a side street, intent on keep- 
ing her somehow within his reach. He knew that Fanny 
had meant to come — had she not told him so? Why she 
had not let him come with her 

‘‘Fm sorry to delay you, Mr. Black, but — I need your 
help very much. Will you let me come in for a very 
few minutes?” 

‘‘Certainly, Miss Fitch, come in.” 

What else was there to do? All sorts and classes of 
people were accustomed to enter the manse doors at all 
hours, so why not this girl in black with the shadows under 
her eyes and the note of appeal in her voice, who said she 
needed his help? What was he there for, except to help? 
And yet, somehow, Robert Black had never been quite 
so unwilling to admit a visitor. Something within him 
seemed to warn him that if ever he had been on his guard, 
he must be on it now. 

If Nan could have seen Fanny, as she took her seat in 
the chair- Black placed for her, she would have wondered 
if she knew her friend, after all. This the girl with the 
glitter in her eyes, the reckless note in her voice, the cap- 
tivating ways which Cary Ray knew so well? This was 
a girl of another sort altogether; one in deep trouble, who 
presented to the man before her a face so sadly sweet, lifted 
to him eyes in which lay such depths of anxiety, that he 
might well summon his best resources to her aid. It 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 263 

ever sincerity Wked out between lifted lashes, it showed 
between tho#c heavily shadowing ones which were ^mong 
Fanny’s most conscious and cherished possessions. 

So then Fanny told Black her story. It was a touching 
story, bravely told. Whenever the lines of it began to 
verge too decidedly upon the pathetic she brought herself 
up, as she caught her red lips between her teeth, said 
softly, “Oh, never mind that part — it’s no different from 
thousands of others,” and went quietly and clearly on. 
She told him of the invalid mother, so dear and so helpless 
— of the uncle who had died, the one man left in the 
bereaved family, for whom she obviously wore her 
mourning — “though he would have told me not, wonder- 
ful old man, who wanted nobody to grieve for him.” 
She spoke of the future, so obscure, and what it was best 
to do; and now, suddenly, when she least expected it — she 
hesitated, then came frankly out with it — here was this 
suitor besieging her, whom she must answer. And with 
it all — she was suffering a great longing for something 
which she had not — a sense that there was a God who 
cared, which she found it, oh! so difficult to believe. 
This last was the greatest, much the greatest, need of all. 
She had come to him because she knew no one else who 
could point the way. . . . 

Here she rested her case, and sat silently looking 
down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her face pal- 
ing with the stress of her repressed emotion. Yes, it did 
pale, as well it might. When one dares to play with 
sacred things, small wonder if the blood seeps away from 
the capillaries, and the pulse beats fast and small. And 
Fanny knew — who could know better.? — that she was play- 
ing, playing a desperate game, with the last cards she 
held. 


264 red and black 

It was very perfect acting, and yet, somehow, it did not 
make the man who watched it lower his guard. He had 
had no great experience with just this sort of thing, and 
yet — he had seen Fanny act before, and had detected in her 
acting that it never once forgot itself in the grip of a gen- 
uine emotion. When she ceased speaking, and it became 
necessary to answer her, he felt his way with every word 
he spoke. 

“Have you told all this to Miss Lockhart.?” was the 
unexpected question he put to her. 

Imperceptibly Fanny winced, but she replied quietly: 
“Nan knows much, but not all. She doesn’t quite under- 
stand me, I think. I can never make her realize that flip- 
pant and frivolous as I can be on the surface, underneath 
something runs deep.” 

“Yet she must want to assure herself of that, she’s so 
finely genuine herself. Ever since I have known her I 
have thought her one of the best-balanced young women 
I ever knew. She seems very devoted to you. And as 
for her faith in things unseen, I am sure it is very real. 
I don’t see how you could do better than to put yourself 
under her tuition.” 

“I have tried, Mr. Black — I assure you I have. Nan 
and I are dear friends, and I respect and admire her de- 
votedly. But I can’t talk about these things even to her. 
Somehow I can’t to any woman. I need — I think I need 
a man’s point of view. And not only a man’s but — a 
priest’s.” 

Her eyes lifted themselves slowly to his, and there was 
a spiritual sort of beseeching in them which very nearly 
veiled and covered the terribly human wish which was 
behind. For a moment Black wondered with a heart- 
sinking throb of anxiety if he were right in distrusting her 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 265 

motive in coming to him as he had thus far distrusted 
it. How should he dare not to respond to her need, if it 
were real? How send her from him unanswered and un- 
satisfied, if he could really do anything for her? Why, 
merely because she was fascinating to look Upon, must she 
be a deceiver; while if she sat before him with a plain face 
and red, white-lashed eyes, he would be far surer that she 
was in real distress. It wasn’t fair to her, was it, to 
doubt her without the proof.? 

While he hesitated over what to say to this appeal, all 
at once he was confronted with a new situation: one ever 
calculated to weaken and undermine the judgment of man. 
Fanny sat close beside his study desk, from the opposite 
side of which he faced her. When his silence had lasted 
for a full minute she quietly turned and laid her arm upon 
the desk — a roundly white arm, the fair flesh showing 
through the sheer black fabric of her close sleeve — and 
buried her face in her arm. With her free hand she found 
her handkerchief — one of the two with which she had 
provided herself — and then Black saw that she was softly 
sobbing, and seemingly trying with much difficulty to 
control herself. 

Well — was this acting, too? Can a woman weep at 
will? And if she were as unhappy as she seemed, what 
was he to do about it ? It was an extremely uncomfortable 
and disquieting situation, and Black wondered for a 
moment if he could possibly see it through without 
blundering. He was wishing ardently that he had a 
mother or a sister at hand. There was only Mrs. 
Hodder whom he could call in, and she was assuredly 
not the person to act as duenna to this young woman. 
To bring her in would be to send Fanny out. And was 
it possible that this v/as really his opportunity, and that 


266 RED AND BLACK 

he must forget everything except to use it for all that there 
was in it? 

“Fm sorry you are unhappy/’ he said. ‘^Of course 
it’s not possible for me to advise you as to Cary Ray — 
only yourself can answer that question. Fve grown to 
like and respect him very thoroughly, and if you could be 
to him what he needs in the way of a sheet anchor, it 
would help him more than anything in the world to steer 
a straight course.” 

Fanny lifted a tear-wct face. ‘‘Would you advise me 
to marry him — ^without — loving him?” 

“Certainly not.” 

“If I cared with all my heart and soul for — someone 

else ” She rose suddenly to her feet, and stood before 

him, a tragic, lovely figure of despair. “Oh,” she breathed, 
“you simply have to know — I can’t keep it from you. 
You are going so soon — there’s no time to wait. I — I 
don’t know what you will think, but — over there you are 
going to go into all sorts of danger. I may never see you 
again. Is it a time to be afraid — for even a woman to be 
afraid — to speak? You may despise me for — showing my 
heart — but — oh, I can’t help it! Don’t — turn me away. 
If you do, I think I shall — die!” 

Robert Black stood as if turned to stone. He had risen 
as she had risen; he now stood staring at her across the 
massive old black walnut desk as if he could not believe 
the evidence of his own ears. If Fanny were to make this 
incredible declaration at all, she had done it in the only 
possible way — across that study desk. If she had at- 
tempted to come near him, to put her hand in his, to try 
upon him the least of all feminine arts in approaching 
man, he would have retreated, bodily and spiritually, and 
have been at once too far away for her to reach. But 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 267 

the very manner of her appeal to him carried with it a 
certain dignity. He could not conceivably repulse her 
in the same way that he could have done if she had played 
the temptress, or even the woman who counts upon her 
personal charm at close range to sway a man’s heart and 
influence his decision. Fanny had studied this man, and 
gauged him well. If she had any possible chance with 
him it was only by making her supplication to him from 
a distance, and by looking, when she had made it — as she 
did look — like a young princess who stoops to lift him of 
her choice to her estate. It was undoubtedly the greatest 
moment of Fanny’s dramatic experience; she was a real 
actress now, for beyond all question she was living the 
part she acted, and the emotion which stirred her was the 
strongest of her life. 

It was not long that Black stared at her white face, his 
own face paling. It was only for a moment that she let 
him see all she could show him; then she turned and walked 
away, across the room, and stood with her back to him, 
her hands clasped before her, her head drooping. The 
figure she thus presented to him was still that of the prin- 
cess, but it was also that of the woman who, having for 
the instant lifted the veil, drops it again, and awaits in 
proud patience the man’s pronouncement. 

Black came slowly toward her — it did not seem possible 
courteously to address her across the many feet of space 
she had now put between them. He stopped when he was 
near enough — and not too near — he seemed to know rather 
definitely when this point had been reached. But before 
he could speak Fanny herself broke the stillness. She 
put out one hand without turning. 

‘'Please don’t come nearer,” she breathed. ‘T can’t 
— bear it.” 


268 


RED AND BLACK 

And then she did turn, lifting to him a face so beseech- 
ing, lifting to him for one instant’s gesture arms so implor- 
ing, that if there had been in him one impulse towards her 
he would have been more than man if he had resisted her. 
But — how could there be in him one impulse towards her 
when, with every moment in her presence, there had been 
living more vividly in his remembrance that other mo- 
ment, now days ago, when he had given Jane Ray — “all 
he had.” Though never again — never again — should 
even so brief a glory of experience come to him, rather 
would he have that one wonderful memory than all 
that there might be for him in these two outstretched 
arms. 

Yet — how could he but be pitiful — and merciful — to 
Fanny Fitch To have offered herself to him, and to have 
to stand there waiting to be taken or refused — there 
seemed to him no words too kind in which to make her 
understand. And yet — how to find words at all! 

“You must know,” he said at last, and with difficulty, 
“that I am — that I have — no way to tell you — how badly 
I feel to have you tell me this, and to be — unable to 

“You’re not unable — you’re just afraid. You’ve kept 
your heart sealed up so long — you’ve been so frightfully 
discreet — such a model minister — you don’t know at all 
what you’re putting away from you. It will never 
come back — you’ll never have the chance again I’m 
giving you — to live — to live — oh, to live with all there is 
of you, not just with the nice, proper, priestly side of you!” 
The passionate voice lifted and dropped again in choking 
cadences. “You think I couldn’t adapt myself, couldn’t 
fill the part. I could — I could! — I would do anything 

you asked of me — become a mystic, like youself — or 

“Oh, stop!^* 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 269 

Fanny stopped — there was no disobeying that low, 
commanding voice. She knew herself that she had now 
gone too far. She stood with both hands pressed over 
her throat, which threatened to contract and shut olF 
her breathing. 

‘T can’t let you — I won’t let you go on. You’re over- 
wrought — you’re not yourself, Miss Fitch. Your long 
journey — your uncle’s death — Cary’s suit — everything 
has combined to overtax your nerves. You’re going to 
put away this hour as if it had never been, and so am I. 
You’re going to find happiness in being a good friend 
to Cary, whether or not anything comes of it. He’s 
worth all you can give him — and you’re going to give him 
your very best. Now — ^won’t you ” 

“Go away?” She looked up at him with a twisted, 
angry smile. “Before you have — prayed with me, for 
the good of my wicked soul? You might at least do that, 
since it’s all you can do for me!” 

Suddenly he felt as if he were in the midst of cheap 
melodrama, forced to take a part against his will. He had 
never believed in this girl, he believed in her less than ever 
now. For a moment she had convinced him that in her 
own fashion she loved him — if she knew what the word 
meant. But now he was driven to believe that only her 
passion for excitement had brought this scene upon him, 
and that this last cynical speech was just the expression 
of her fondness for the drama. He turned cold in an in- 
stant; his very spirit retreated from her. 

“I should feel,” he said, very quietly, “as if I were 
playing with prayer, if I made u?^ of it just now. I think 
the best thing for you is to try to rest and sleep, and come 
back to a natural and sane way of looking at things. If 
doors don’t open at a touch, if they are locked and one 


RED AND BLACK 


270 

has no key, it’s not wise to try to force them. There are 
plenty of doors that will open at your touch ” 

‘‘But not yours! And now that you have locked and 
doubled barred it I want to tell you that it’s too late* 
I’ve seen inside, and know what a chilly, stony place it is. 
There’s no fire there — it’s all austerity. No woman could 
keep warm there, certainly not a woman like me. I’ve 
long wanted to know what was behind that granite face 
of yours, and now I’ve found out. I’ve kept my splendid, 
big-hearted Cary waiting till I could satisfy myself about 
you, and know that he was worth two, three — ten of you, 
Robert Black! I’m going back to him — and happy to 
go. Do you wish me joy.? Or does even doing that go 
against your flinty conscience?” 

He came toward her, pitying her again now, it was so 
obvious that she was trying to save her humiliated face. 

“Miss Fitch,” he said, gently, “I do wish you joy — if 
you can find it in anything genuine. But don’t play 
with Cary Ray — he doesn’t deserve it.” 

“Will you marry us to-night at eight o’clock?” 

He looked at her steadily. “You don’t mean that!’* 

“I certainly do. That was what I came for — as he 
knows. And to settle a little wager I had with him. I’ve 
settled it. And now I’m doing my real errand. Will 
you marry us, Mr. Robert Black? — since you have re- 
fused — everything else ?” 

He walked away from her now, over to the window, and 
stood looking out for a space. Fanny watched him, her 
head up, her lips smiling a little, ready to face him when 
he turned again. He came back at last, and he spoke 
quietly and decidedly. 

“If you will send Cary to me,” he said, “and he asks 
me to do this, I will do it. Not otherwise.” 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 271 

“What do you want to do? Talk with him, and try 
to persuade him that Fm not good enough for him?” 

“I want to talk with him. I want to ask him to wait 
to marry you till he comes back.” 

“And why, if you please?” 

“Because he’s going to find out, over there, that life is 
something besides a game. And when he comes back, if he 
still wants you, it will be because you have found it out, 
too. Oh, I wish — I wish with all my heart — you would stop 
playing and be real. Why not?” 

“I think,” said Fanny Fitch, “it’s because I’m made 
that way. You might as well give me up. If I laugh, 
it’s as likely as not to be because I want to cry. And 
if I cry, it’s more than likely to be true that I’m laughing 
inside. I love to act, on the stage or off of it. How can 
I help that? It’s the true dramatic instinct. How can 
I be any more real than I am ? Being what you call unreal 
is reality to me. If I were to try to be what to you is 
real, I should be more unreal than I am now. There, 
Mr. Minister what will you do with that?” 

Black shook his head. “You are merely juggling with 
words now,” he said. “I think you know what I mean 
as well as I do. And I think something will happen 
which will make you unwilling to play with things — and 
people — as you do now. Meanwhile ” 

The doorbell rang sharply. It was what Black had 
been expecting all along. There was nothing to do but 
answer it. Mrs. Hodder was accustomed to do this only 
by request, and he had not asked her for it to-day, for 
she was more than usually busy in her kitchen. Black 
went to the door, leaving Fanny behind, and hoping 
against hope that it might not be some caller who would 
be certain to misunderstand the whole situation. It 


RED AND BLACK 


272 

proved to be the one man whom he could have wished to 
see. Cary Ray had walked the street to a purpose, 
though he had not known, for he had met a messenger. 
With his message in his hand he had rushed to the manse 
door. 

“Is Fanny here.?” 

“Yes. Come into my study, please.” 

Breathless with his fast walk which had been all but a 
run, Cary confronted Fanny across the room. He crossed 
it, seized her hands, and stood looking down into her face 
with excited eyes. The drops stood out upon his forehead. 

“You put me off too long,” he said. “Tm off — no 
time for anything but to throw my things together and 
catch the next train. I knew when the orders came they’d 
come this way. There isn’t even time for — what we’d 
have to get first if we did what I wanted. Perhaps — since 
you didn’t know your own mind — it’s just as well. Maybe 
— if I come back — you’ll know it better. And if I don’t — 
never mind. All I want is to get into the game somehow.” 

Even at the moment Fanny looked past Cary at Robert 
Black. 

“You see,” she said, “he calls it a game, too.” 

“He won’t,” Black answered, “when he comes back — 
as please God he will.” 

“I can’t stop a minute. Will you both go with me, 
over to my sister’s?” 

“Of course.” 

Black caught up his hat. Fanny snatched a glance at 
herself as she went by a sombre black-walnut-framed 
mirror in the hall. Cary mopped his brow and ran a 
finger round inside his collar. It was quite plain that his 
eagerness now was concentrated on the great news of his 
imminent departure. Suddenly nothing much mattered 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 273 

to him except that at last he was ofF, with his longed-for 
chance before him. That was the big thing to him now, 
not getting married in haste and leaving a bride behind 
him. It was as plain as could be in every word he said, 
and in the joyful sparkle in his eyes. Quicksilver in a 
tube was Cary Ray — and the mercury had jumped all 
but to the top! 

The following hour was as wild a one as only those can 
conceive who have had an experience like it. At the end 
of it Cary and Jane, Fanny, Nan Lockhart, and Robert 
Black stood on the station platform with six minutes to 
spare. At dmost the same instant Doctor Burns’s car 
drew up, and he and Mrs. Burns joined the group. 

“You are all regular bricks, you know,” declared Cary, 
“to stand by me like this. Everybody’s here I could have 
wanted, except Tom, and since he beat me to a uniform, 
and there’s no way of getting his training camp on the 
wire in a hurry. I’ll have to go olF unsped by him. But I 
know what he’d say: 'This is the life!’ He’s said it to 
me at least once a week on a postcard, ever since he left 
us.” 

“If you are half as happy to be in it as he is ” began 

Nan. 

‘H’m twice as happy — no question of it. And I want 

to tell all you people ” Cary paused, looked quickly 

from one to another, and his bright glance fell. “No, I 
don’t believe I can,” he confessed, “at least not in a group 
like this. I think what little I can say I owe my sister. 
If you’ll forgive me I’ll take her down the platform a bit 
and give her my parting instructions.” 

He grasped her arm and walked away with her, the 
friendly eyes following the pair. Friendly? Black couldn t 
help wondering just what Fanny was thinking as she 


RED AND BLACK 


274 

looked after them. Certainly she was paler than he had 
ever seen her — or was that her unaccustomed sombre 
attire ? 

“Sis,” Cary said in Jane’s ear, “it’s tough to go like 
this, after all, with all the things I want to say left up in 
the air. I hope you’ll somehow make those trumps back 
there know what their friendship has meant to me. — I 
say — ” he broke off to stare at her — “by George! I didn’t 
know you were so easy to look at, little girl. You — ^you — 
why you’re the sweetest thing that eyer happened — and 
not just soft sweet, either — stingingly sweet, I should put 
it.” 

“Dear, you’re just seeing me through the eyes of 
parting. Cary, when I get across we can surely meet 
sometimes, can’t we ? Correspondents have more freedom 
of movement than other men, I’m sure.” 

“We’ll try it, anyhow. Janie — I want you to know 
how I just plain worship you for sticking by and pulling 
me out of the ditch the way you have — ^you and Bob 
Black, and the Doctor. Wojds can’t say it — but maybe 
actions can. I’m taking you three with me — and leaving 
behind a girl who doesn’t know whether she wants me or 
not. Best thing to do — eh?” 

Well, he was excited, strung to a high tension, eager to 
be olF — ^it could be read in his every word and look. He 
had barely said these things to Jane before he had her 
back with the others, and was getting off gay, daring 
speeches to one and another, sometimes aloud, sometimes 
under his breath for one ear only. The words he left with 
Fanny Fitch stayed with her for many a day. 

“Get into the game, somehow — ^will you? You can do 
that much for me, anyhow. If you will I’ll call it square — 
of you.” 


QUICKSILVER IN A TUBE 275 

When he had gone, his handsome, eager face laughing 
back at them from the rear platform of his train, Robert 
Black found himself following Cary with an involuntary 
‘^God bless and keep you safe, Cary Ray!” the more 
fervent that it was unuttered. Suddenly his heart was 
very anxious for this audacious and lovable fellow. How 
would he come through? Yet it was not of Cary’s life 
that he was thinking. 

Determinedly he took his place beside Jane. The party 
had dismissed their taxicab, now that the rush for the 
train was over, and were walking back. It was no time 
to allow circumstances or other people to come between 
them. 

*‘Oh, how I wish,” breathed Jane, ‘'that I could go 
this very night. I want so much to get away before — 
you do.” 

“And Fm wanting to go before you! If you go first 
I shall see you off. If I go first, will you do the same for 
me?” 

“Your whole church will be there.” 

“Not if I can help it. But even if they are, it will make 
no difference. I shall want to look last at — you.” 

“Did you think,” admitted Jane, smiling, “that I 
could possibly stay away?” 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 


I THINK maybe — it’s come, Mr. Black.” 

Mrs. Hodder, housekeeper to the manse, stood 
trembling in the study doorway, a telegram in her hand. 
Yes, Mrs. Hodder was trembling. Robert Black would 
never know how like a mother she felt toward him. A 
lonely, more than middle-aged woman can’t bake and 
brew and sew on buttons and generally look after a bach- 
elor of any sort without coming to have a strong interest 
in him — normally a maternal one. And when the bach- 
elor is one who treats her with the consideration and friend- 
liness this man had always shown Henrietta Hodder, small 
wonder if she comes to have a proprietary interest in 
him little short of that belonging to actual kinship. 

Black jumped up from his desk. It was Saturday night, 
and his sermon was still in preparation. This was unusual 
with him, but everything that could happen had happened, 
this week, to consume his time and delay him. Every- 
body, it seemed to him, in his parish, had needed his ser- 
vices for some crisis or other. He was tired of body and 
jaded of spirit, and he was extremely discontent with the 
outlines for the sermon which he had with difficulty drag- 
ged out of his unwilling mind. And now, in the twinkling 
of an eye, everything was changed. 

He read the message in one hurried instant. Yes, it 
was here, couched in military language with military 
276 


THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 277 

brevity. He was to proceed at once — nobody in the 
Service is ever ordered to go anywhere, always to proceed 
— and to report within forty-eight hours to his command- 
ing officer at a camp at a long distance. This meant — 
yes, of course it meant — that he must leave town by the 
following evening, Sunday evening. And it meant also, 
equally of course, that between this hour and that he must 
be practically every minute on the jump. Well, he 
couldn’t but be glad of that. 

His weariness vanished like magic. Mrs. Hodder, 
watching him read the message, knew by the way he 
stiffened and straightened those shoulders of his, which 
had been humped over his desk when she came to the door, 
that the expected call had come. He looked at her over 
the yellow sheet. 

“Yes — this is it!” he said. “I must be off — to-morrow 
night.” 

She swallowed a great lump in her throat. “I expect — 
there’ll be a many things to do,” she said. “I’ve got 
your clo’es in order — I’ve been keeping them mended up, 
ready — ^your socks and all.” 

Black smiled. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her 
that not an article of his ordinary apparel would go with 
him to France, but he hadn’t the heart just then. It 
struck him that Mrs. Hodder was looking a little odd to- 
night — strangely pale for one whose countenance was 
usually rather florid. Then — he saw her hand shake as 
she put it up to smooth back her already smooth gray hair, 
an act invariable with her when disturbed in mind. It 
came over him that his housekeeper was not just happy 
over his wonderful news. And suddenly, he almost under- 
stood why. Not quite. How could he know what ravages 
he had committed upon that staid, elderly heart? — he who 


RED AND BLACK 


278 

had borne himself with such discretion under this roof 
that he had never so much as touched the woman’s hand 
except to shake it. 

His own heart suffered, at this instant, its first pang 
at the thought of leaving this comfortable home of his 
and the ministrations of this plain person who had — yes, 
she had done her best to mother him — he knew it now — as 
far as a woman could who was shut away by all sorts of in- 
visible barriers from any real approach. He put out his 
hand and took her trembling one and held it in both his 
own. He was a chaplain now, he was leaving his parish, 
he could do as his will dictated! 

“I want you to know,” he said, “that I appreciate, as 
well as a man can, every thought you have taken for me. 
You’ve made this house seem as much like a real home as 
you could possibly have done. I shall remember it 
always.” 

Pale? Had she been pale? She had flushed, in an odd, 
mottled sort of way, to her very ears — and the back of her 
neck. Her breath seemed to come a little short as she 
answered him. . 

“But — ^you’ll be coming back, Mr. Black?” she ques- 
tioned, anxiously. “You’re only going for — a while? 
I’ll — you’ll — I wanted to speak for the place again, if I 
might, when — you come back, sir.” 

Black’s softening face hardened suddenly. “No, I 
don’t expect to come back to this parish, Mrs. Hodder,” 
he said. “I’m resigning to-morrow.” 

^^Whafs that?^’ 

A deep voice boomed from the hall outside, and Black 
and Mrs. Hodder turned together. Red appeared in the 
doorway of the study, having met the telegraph messenger 
coming away just outside the house. He was, by now. 


THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 279 

the sort of friend who follows up a telegraph messenger 
on the chance that he may be needed. 

Mrs. Hodder knew her place, if momentarily her master 
himself had caused her to forget it. She withdrew her 
hand from Black’s and left the room hurriedly; and the 
tears which flowed the moment she was out of sight were 
not wholly unhappy ones. As for her hand — the hand he 
had held so warmly in both his — well, it was a very pre- 
cious hand to her now. Like Jane Ray, she had ‘‘some- 
thing to remember!” 

“What’s that you say?” demanded Red, coming in like 
a gathering tornado. “I know you’ve got your orders, or 
you wouldn’t be found holding your housekeeper’s hand. 
But — ^what in thunder do you mean by saying you’re 
resigning your church?” 

Black sat down on the edge of his desk — he was rather 
glad to sit down on something if an argument with R. P. 
Burns in his present mood was to take place. Not that 
there could be any argument, but he knew the signs of 
warfare when he saw them. 

“Why, there’s nothing else to do,” he replied, quietly. 

“Nothing else to do! Do you mean to say they’re not 
giving you a leave of absence?” 

Black shook his head. “I’ve not asked for any.” 

“But they know you’re going?” 

“ Know I’m likely to go. It was only fair to tell them 
that to give them a chance to look around for a successor. 
I’ve been perfectly frank with Mr. Lockhart about it. 
He’s been skeptical all along as to my getting the call for 
a good while yet, but I’ve warned him over and over that 
it might come — ^just as it has come. So — I’m resigning 
in the morning, and getting off at night. Good way to 
go — isn’t it ? ” 


28 o 


RED AND BLACK 


‘‘Good way for you — and a blamed poor way for some of 
the rest of us. See here! Oh, hang that church — what’s 
the matter with it? Why, my wife didn’t know this. 
She supposes, of course, you’re going on leave. She thinks, 
as I did, that the parish has got a string on you that 
amounts to a rope, to haul you back with. Do you mean 

to say Why, confound Sam Lockhart! I thought he 

was one of your best friends. ” 

“He is.” 

“I know,” admitted Red, “you haven’t been particu- 
larly easy to get along with. You preached war when 
they wanted you to breathe peace, ever since you came. 
You’ve insisted on picturing the flowing blood over there 
when it made some of ’em feel ill just to hear about it. 
You’ve had your way about a lot of things. Bob, that they 
were accustomed to manage their way. I suspect you’ve 
been a thorn in some folks’ flesh — bless your dogged spirit! 
But — my faith!” — and his eyes shot fire — “to let you 

cut loose and go to war, without Why, they ought to 

be proud to send you. They ought to take you to the 
station with a brass band. They ought ” 

“Oh, see here!” Black slid off the desk-edge, came over 
to his friend, and caught him by both shoulders. “You 
can’t make people over by roaring at them in my study. 
And much as I want to see you, and warm as you make 
the cockles of my heart by your roars. I’ve got to put you 
out and get down to work. Why, man, do you realize 
this changes all my plans for to-morrow in an instant? 
I can’t preach the thing I meant to preach — not now. 
I’ve had just one text in mind for my last Sunday here, 
whenever it should be, and I’ve got to preach on that if 
I stay up all night to think it out. And since it’s 
already ” 


THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 281 

Red pulled out his watch. “Yes, it’s ten o’clock this 
minute. All right — I’ll get out. But first — lad ” 

He paused. The flow of his words, which had been well 
started for a torrent, halted, ceased. He cleared his 
throat. He took his lower lip between his teeth and bit 
it savagely, then released it, waited a minute longer, and 
spoke. But — could this be Red speaking? 

“Bob,” he said, “before you go — ^will you take me into 
your church ? ” 

There was a moment’s silence, because Black’s heart 
simply stopped — turned over — and then went on again; 
and an interval of experience like that always makes 
speech impossible. And when he did speak all he could 
say was: 

“Oh, Red!” 

“All right. Now, I’ll go.” 

Black’s hand seized his. The two hands gripped till 
they practically stopped the circulation in both. 

“I’ll get consent to have a special communion service 
in the morning — I should have wanted it anyway. You 
know, of course, you’ll have to come before ” 

Red nodded. “I don’t like that part. You’re the 
only man I want to come before — but I’ll go through the 
usual procedure. I may not measure up to ” 

“Oh, yes, you will. You’ve always measured up, only 
you wouldn’t admit it. Don’t mind about that — ^just 
answer the questions in your own way. See here, Red ” 

But he couldn’t say it, and Red knew that he couldn’t — 
and didn’t want him to. Didn’t Red know without being 
told that if there was one thing that could take the sore- 
ness out of Black’s heart over having his church let him 
go like this, it would be his receiving this other great desire 
of his heart? How did Red know that Black wanted him. 


282 


RED AND BLACK 

m his church? Why, they had become friends! There 
need be no other explanation. 

So then Red went away. Where he went doesn’t 
matter, just now, though wherever it was he went straight 
as an arrow to it — rather, he went straight as one of those 
famous seventy-five millimetre shells of the Great War 
went to its objective. And when he hit the spot some- 
thing blew up and things were never the same again in 
that particular place, quite as he had intended they 
shouldn’t be. For a new member of the Stone Church — 
which he wasn’t — ^yet — his activities seemed to begin 
rather early. 

Black sat down to his new sermon. No, he walked the 
fioor with it. He had said there was just one text he 
wanted for that sennon, and given that text, plus the 
tremendous stimulus of the complete change in the situa- 
tion, he could hardly stand up under the rush of his 
thoughts about it. Instead of ploughing heavily, as he 
had been doing, his mind was now working with lightning 
rapidity. There was no time to write the new sermon 
out, he could only frame its outlines and stop at his desk, 
every now and then, to make notes of the filling in. By 
midnight it was complete — the last sermon he was to 
preach in this church; it might easily be the last he would 
ever preach in any church. That didn’t matter; all that 
mattered was that he should get his white-hot belief upon 
the cold anvil of his audience’s intelligence and there ham- 
mer it into shape till the anvil was as hot as metal, and 
something had taken form that had never had form before. 

It was two o’clock when he finally went to bed. It was 
four o’clock when he went to sleep, six when he awoke. 
When his eyes opened he had a new thing on his mind — 
and it was an old thing — a thing he had long meant to do 


THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 283 

and had never done. Strange that it should rise up to 
bother him now when the day was already so full! He 
tried to put it aside. He was sorry, but it was too late, 
now. A pity that he hadn’t seen to it long ago, but it was 
certainly too late now. 

Was it too late And why was the thought of it knock- 
ing so persistently at the door of his plans for the day if it 
Were not that it was for him to do, after all.? Somehow 
he couldn’t put it aside — the remembrance of that forlorn 
and neglected community, up on the hills, so near and yet 
so far, where he had buried Sadie Dunstan, and to which 
he had always meant to return — some day. And that 
day had never come. Well, he had been incessantly busy 
— he could have done no more. Demands upon his time 
and strength had called him in every direction but — ^that. 
Yet probably he had been no more needed anywhere than 
there. Too bad, but it was most certainly too late 
now. 

At seven his telephone rang. It was Red’s voice which 
hailed him; 

“I just want to put myself at your disposal for the day 
as far as I can cut my work to do it. Jim Macauley says 
if you want his seven-passenger for any purpose whatever 
consider him yours to command. He thought you might 
want to pay some farewell visits or something, and would 
like to take a few people along. Plenty of candidates 
for the job — you’ll have to pick and choose. What time 
do I — face the music?” 

“Just before church. Red — ten o’clock in the vestry 
room. I’ve called t-hem all — they don’t know whom it is 
they’re to meet. About the car — thank you and Macauley. 
I want very much to go up on the hills, where Sue Dunstan 
came from, and hold a little open air-service this afternoon. 


284 and black 

I m going to ask two of my boys to run up there and get 
as many people notified as possible.” 

“Great Caesar! That the way you’re going to spend 
your last hours? Why, Ellen is planning to open our 
house for all your friends and ” 

“Thank her heartily for me, will you? And tell her 
that if she and you will go along with me up there I’ll like 
it much better than anything else she can do for me. I 
want to take Miss Ray, too, if I may.” 

“Anything you say goes, of course. I told my wife I 
doubted if you’d stand for the reception idea, and I don’t 
blame you for not wanting it, but — I didn’t expect you’d 
want to do a stunt like that. All right — I’ll stand by. 
Sure you don’t want to preach to the crowd that’ll be at 
the station ? Wonderful opportunity — better not miss it ! ” 

“See you at ten o’clock. Red. Stop joking about this 
day of mine.” 

“I’m not joking — I’m just whistling to keep my courage 
up. If you think this day is anything but deadly serious 
to me ” 

“I know it is. Good-bye — Best Friend!” And Black 
hung up the receiver on those last words which he would 
hardly yet have ventured to speak if the two men had been 
face to face. But his heart was warm with a great love 
for Red this day — and a great reverent exultation over 
what was soon to happen. Why not speak the words that 
soon, call he ever so loudly, could not be heard, except 
by the hearing of the spirit ? 

He rushed through his breakfast — it was a banquet, if he 
had known it, prepared by devoted hands — and all but 
ran through the early morning streets to the dismantled 
shop and home on the little side street. Sue admitted 
him, and took him through to the rear garden where Jane, 


THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 285 

'Tn working dress, was packing a box. She stood up, and 
the colour rushed into her face at sight of him. 

‘T have my call — I go to-night. Pm the lucky one to 
go first and leave you behind. But Pm sorry about that, 
too.” 

She pulled ofF.the gloves whrch had protected her hands, 
unfastened her apron, gave both to Sue, and sent her inside 
with them. Then she faced him. 

“Somehow I knew it was close at hand,” she said. 
“To-night! Well ” 

“This afternoon will you go with Doctor and Mrs. Burns 
and. me — and Sue — I should like to take Sue — up to the 
hills'where the Dunstans lived ? I want to say a few things 
to those people up there before I go. I always meant to do 
it, and never seemed to get around to it. . Somehow I 
can’t go away without doing it. And I want you there.” 

She nodded. “Of course Pll go. I — yes, Pll go — of 
course. Oh, how glad you are to be off — and how I envy 
you!” 

“Are you coming to church this morning?” 

“Oh!— I— think— not.” 

“Jane!” 

She looked up at him and away again. “I don’t think 
I — can,” she said. 

He was silent for a minute, studying her. In the bright 
light of the Sabbath morning, there in the garden, she had 
never seemed to him a more perfect thing. Every little 
chestnut hair that grew away from her brow, curving up- 
ward in an exquisite sweep from her small ear, stood out 
in that light; the texture and colour of her cheek, the poise 
of her head upon her white, strong neck — somehow he 
couldn’t help noting these lovely details as he had almost 
never noted them before. It was as if he saw her through 


386 RED AND BLACK 

eyes sharpened already by absence and loneliness. He 
tried to fix the image of her upon the tablet of his mind — 
just the sheer physical image of her, as he might have put 
away a photograph in his pocket, to carry with him. Yet 
it was something far more subtle than that that he was 
trying to fix — her whole personality, body and mind and 
spirit — this was what he found himself wanting to take 
with him in a way that he could never let go, no matter 
how far away from her he might be. 

‘H’m sorry you don’t think you can,” he said at last, 
gently. “Do you know that I never even asked it of you 
before ? ” ’ 

“Do you ask it now? You only said — ‘are you 
coming?’” 

“Didn’t that tell the story? I don^t see how I can 
quite — bear it — if you don’t.” 

“Then — I will. But I shall sit very far back, and you 
may not even see me.” 

“I shall see you — if you are there at all.” 

He had to hurry away then. There was no time to lose 
if he would do half the things that must be done that day. 
But long afterward in dark and dreadful scenes, the very 
antitheses of this one, he could close his eyes and see the 
little old garden, with its rows of pink and white and deep 
rose hollyhocks against the vine-covered wall, and see Jane 
standing in the bright sunlight. He must always remem- 
ber, too, what it cost him to stand there beside her, and 
watch her, and know that, as with everything he looked 
upon that day, it might be for the last time. It had taken 
every particle of will he had to leave her. Fortunate for 
him that that will had had a long schooling in doing what 
it must, not what it would! 

Ten o’clock — and Red at the vestry door. Within 


THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 287 

that door a strange Red, grave and quiet, facing a circle 
of surprised and deeply interested men, wondering within 
themselves how it had ever come about. A dignified 
candidate was this, who answered questions, as Black 
had bidden him, in his own abrupt and original way, and 
more than once startled his questioners not a little. It 
was at least three times that Black had to use all the tact 
and discretion at his disposal to prevent a clash of arms 
when it came to some technicality which to some man’s 
mind was an important one. But in the end they were 
satisfied. Not one of them but knew that if Dr. Redfield 
Pepper Burns had come to the point where he was willing 
to call the old Stone Church his own, it could only be be- 
cause some deep antagonism had given way — and that, 
of itself, was enough to commend him to them. Such a 
power as Red was in the whole community, he could be in 
the church, if he would. And now that he would, they 
must let him in, if they were not fools. And fools they 
were not — and some of them were of those whose knowl- 
edge is not wholly of earth, because it has been taught of 
heaven. So they accepted Red, as well they might, though 
he was as far from being a saint as any one of themselves, 
nor ever would be one, while he remained below the stars. 
The Church Militant is no place for saints, only for 
human beings who would keep one another company on 
a difficult road — and the company of One who went before 
and knows all the hardships — and the glories — of the way. 

Eleven o’clock, and Black in his pulpit. He faced a con- 
gregation which filled every nook and cranny of the large 
audience room, and stretched away into the distance in 
rooms beyond opened for the emergency. News travels 
fast, and this news had gone like lightning about the town, 
for a very good reason. Black had summoned onJy two 


288 


RED AND BLACK 


of his young men, despatching them to the hills to go from 
house to house there. But these two, before they went, 
had done a little despatching, on their own initiative, with 
the result to be expected. It was a great hour, and too 
great honour could not be done. 

As he rose to speak Black’s heart was very full. Jane 
was there — he knew, because he had deliberately watched 
both doors until he had seen her come in. And she was 
not far away in a back seat, as she had said she would be. 
Instead, she had permitted an eager young usher, in search 
of a place in the already full church, to lead her away down 
to the very front, though at one side^anTalmost behind a 
tall pillar. He had seen her slip into this pew, evidently 
asking to change places with a child who had the pillar 
seat, one well screened from the rest of the congregation. 
Once Black had seen her safely in this place, so near him, 
he breathed more deeply. He could forget everything 
now, except this, his last chance, with that molten metal 
he had been making ready for this hour. 

And He, hearing His cross, went forth into a place called 
the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha” 

What happens, in the hour when a man gives himself 
to a task like this; when all that he is, or ever hopes to be, 
he lays upon the altar of his purpose ? Human he may be, 
and weak, utterly inadequate, as far as his own power 
goes, to do the thing he longs to do. And yet — ^well, 
many a man knows what it is to feel his spirit suddenly 
strengthen with the hour of need, to feel pour into it some- 
thing intangible yet absolutely real and definite — and 
Divine — to know himself able to take the minds and 
hearts and wills of men into his two human hands and 
mould them in spite of themselves. And this, as he had 
hoped and prayed upon his knees, was what happened to 


THE ALTAR OF HIS PURPOSE 289 

Robert Black this last morning of his ministry to these 
people. He could not have asked for a greater gift — no, 
not if by putting out his hand he could have taken Jane’s 
hand and led her away with him. For that hour, at least, 
as he had wished, the man was lost in the priest; he was 
consecrated, heart and soul, to his task. How should 
those before him resist him — the messenger who spoke 
to them with the tongue of inspiration? For so he spoke. 

Christ upon the battle-field — that was his theme. Of 
itself it was a moving theme; as he made use of it it became 
a glorious one. Those who listened seemed almost to see 
a manly, compassionate Figure moving among His young 
soldiers, living in the trenches with them, facing the fight 
with them, enduring the long night with them, lifting their 
hearts, speaking to their spirits — inhabiting the place of 
the skull as they inhabited it — and when the bullet or the 
bit of shrapnel had gone home, saying “/ am with you, he 
not afraid.^’ 

Who shall describe the. preaching of a great sermon? 
The pen has not been made which may do more than sketch 
the various outlines of either experience — that of preacher 
or that of listener, when God thus speaks to human hearts 
through human lips. Reporter’s flying pencil may take 
down the burning words themselves without an error; 
only the shadow of the mountain falls upon the plane of 
his notebook. Preacher may only say: “He spoke 
through me to-day — somehow I know it”; listener may 
only think: “I heard what I never heard before, or may 
again.” Only He who inspired the message may know 
all that it was or half that it accomplished. So it has 
always been, and so it will ever be — on earth. 

The sermon ended; the communion service began. 
None went away, as ordinarily some were accustomed to 


RED AND BLACK 


290 

do; it was if a spell had been cast upon the audience, it 
remained so motionless. Only when, at the very first, 
a tall figure with a flaming red head came forward at the 
beckoning of Black, did other heads crane themselves 
to see. The impossible had happened — no doubt of that. 
It couldn’t be; but yes, it zvas Doctor Burns who was march- 
ing down the aisle, to stand facing Black beside the Table 
on which were set forth the Bread and Wine. 


CHAPTER XVII 

NO OTHER WAY 

OU!'* It was Jane Ray’s astonished, all but shud- 
^ dering thought. ''You ! — and not — me! Oh, how 
can it be.? You, who I thought would stay outside with 
me — and the like of me — forever, before you would bind 
yourself like this. Do you believe the things that he does ? 
You could never be a hypocrite, Redfield Burns. Are 
you doing it for love of Robert Black .? No, you wouldn’t 
do it, even for that, any more than I would. Then — 
what is it?” 

She sat with a white face and watching eyes which 
burned darkly beneath her close-drawn, sheltering hat- 
brim, while Red took upon himself the vows which Black 
administered. When it was done, and Red stood straight 
and tall again, and Black looked into his eyes and took 
his hand, and said the few grave and happy words of 
welcome which end such a service, Jane’s heart stood still 
with pain and love — and envy. It seemed to her that 
she must get away from the place somehow — anyhow — 
she could endure no more. 

But there was no getting away yet. She had to see it 
through. And what came next was what Black had told 
Mrs. Hodder was to come. All through the service, far 
back in her usual place, the gray-haired housekeeper of 
the manse had sat, still trembling a little now and then, 
waiting to hear the blow fall. She it was who knew, she 
291 


292 RED AND BLACK 

said to herself, the dreadful thing which was coming. 
Nobody dse, she thought, knew that the minister meant 
to resign his charge. She didn’t see why he must resign 
it, why he shouldn’t come back. He had been here less 
than a year and a half; he was in the full tide of his suc- 
cess; the big church was his as long as he should choose to 
keep it. She wondered how they would take it when they 
knew. As for herself, her heart was very heavy. Who 
was there, in all the church, who would miss him as she 
would ? 

He was speaking. She moved her head and managed 
to see him through the close-ranged congregation. He had 
not gone back to the pulpit, he still stood beside the com- 
munion table, on the floor below, so it was difficult to get 
a view of him. He looked very manly and fine, she 
thought; his face was full of colour, as it always was when 
he had been preaching, and his black eyes were keen and 
clear as he looked his people in the face and told them 
that he was taking leave of them for good. He used few 
words, and what he said was very simple and direct. He 
had seen it his duty — and his great, great privilege — to 
go over to France, and try to do his part. He had 
preached what he believed with all his heart, and now 
the time had come to prove that he believed what he had 
preached. He said good-bye, and God bless them, and 
wouldn’t their prayers go with him that he might be of 
all the service to the men of his regiment that he could 
know or learn how to be? 

He was withdrawing, that they might act upon his res- 
ignation according to custom, and he had all but reached 
the narrow door beside the pulpit when an impressive 
figure, that of Mr. Samuel Lockhart, in his well-fitting 
frock coat of formal wear, rose in his pew. He motioned 


NO OTHER WAY 293 

to Mr. William Jennings, who sat near this door, and 
Jennings took a few steps after the departing minister 
and laid a hand upon his arm. 

“Don’t go just yet,” Jennings warned him, in an excited 
undertone. 

Black turned. Mr. Lockhart spoke his name, and he 
turned still farther and looked back at his chief officer* 
Why in the world wasn’t he allowed to take himself away 
at this juncture? Must he be detained to hear a conven- 
tional farewell, a speech expressing hope that he would 
come through unscathed, and thanks for what he had done 
for the church in the short time that he had been with 
them? There wasn’t much run-away blood in Black’s 
make-up, but he was certainly wishing at that instant that 
they hadn’t thought it necessary to hold him up, and that 
he had taken those steps toward the door fast enough to 
get through it and close it behind him before he could be 
stopped. And then for the hillside and his open-air talk. 
That was what he wanted most — and next! It seemed 
to him he couldn’t breathe any longer, here with the 
flowers and the people and the organ music and the stained- 
glass windows! It was his church no longer. . . . 

Suddenly he knew that his heart was even sorer than he 
had thought it was. 

But there was nothing to do but face it. So he did 
turn about, and came forward a few steps, and stood wait- 
ing. They were all looking at him — all those people — 
and some of them — why, yes, he could see spots of white 
all over the church, which grew momently thicker. Could 
it be that so many people as that were — crying? That 
sore heart of his gave a queer little jump in his breast. 
Why, then — they cared — or some of them cared — because 
he wasn’t coming back! 


RED AND BLACK 


294 

'‘Mr. Black” — Samuel Lockhart cleared his throat — 
“we have something to,- say to you before you go. We 
want you to know that Xve deeply appreciate all that you 
have done for this church in the short time you have been 
with us” — (yes, Black had known that was what he would 
say) — “and that though some of us have not always agreed 
with you in your views on certain points, we have been 
unable not to respect you. You yourself can testify that 
we have listened to you, as we have listened to-day, with 
close attention, always — you have compelled it. But 
to-day we have listened with a new respect, not to say a 
deep admiration for you.” (Black braced himself. 
His eyes were fixed steadily upon those of his chief officer. 
He told himself that it would be over sometime, and then 
he could get away.) “And we have listened with some- 
thing else — ^with a sense of possession such as we have 
never had before.” 

Mr. Lockhart cleared his throat again. Evidently 
this speech was tough on him, too. What in the world did 
the man mean ? A sense of possession — of what ? 

“You see, we are not merely saying good-bye to you, 
Mr. Black. That of itself would be enough to make this 
occasion one long to be remembered. In fact, we are not 
saying good-bye at all, we are saying 'Till we meet again!’ 
For — if you will have it so — though you are leaving us for 
the time being, you are going over to do what you consider 
your part in the war — as our representative. The Stone 
Church refuses your resignation, sir. Instead, it grants 
you a year’s leave of absence which it will extend if you 
ask it at the end of that period. And it says to you: God- 
speed to Our Minister!” 

There was a stir, a murmur throughout the big audience. 
Handkerchiefs were held suspended in mid-air while 


NO OTHER WAY 295 

everybody tried his or her best to see the face of Robert 
Black. In his pew Redfield l^epper Burns had grown 
redder and redder, till his face rivalled his hair in vividness. 
Behind her pillar Jane Ray had grown whiter and whiter, 
as she tried to stifle her pounding heart. At the back of 
the church young Perkins, usher, all but gave out an 
ecstatic whoop, and pinched the; arm of a neighbouring 
usher till it was an inflamed red, the victim only grinning 
back joyfully. 

“You surely know,” said Robert Black, when he could 
command his voice, which it took him a full minute to do — 
“that a man must go with a braver heart in him if he goes 
— for others, than if he goes by him elf. I thank you — 
and I accept the commission. God help me to be worthy 
of your trust.” 

Of course he couldn’t get off till he had had his hand 
wrung by several hundred people, during which process, 
as he had expected, Jane slipped away. They wept over 
him, they smiled tearfully at him, they all but clung to 
him, but he could bear it now. If he suspected that it 
was Red who had done this thing for him at the last — 
the new member already beginning to make himself felt 
with a vengeance! — it was impossible not to see that now 
that it was done everybody was immensely glad and 
satisfied over it. The hardest heads he had ever encoun- 
tered here were among those who were now proud to have 
him go from the old Stone Church, the first chaplain in all 
that part of the country to offer himself from the ministry. 
Oh, yes — no doubt but it was all right now, and Black 
would have been a man of iron if that sore heart of his 
had not been somewhat comforted. 

He had dinner alone with Mrs. Hodder, refusing a score 
of invitations that he might give her this happiness. She 


RED AND BLACK 


296 

had been up, baking and brewing, since daybreak, and 
he had divined that it would be a blow to her if he brought 
even one guest home. He was glad, moreover, of the hour's 
interval in which to draw breath. He did his best to make 
the eating of the sumptuous meal a little festival for the 
woman opposite him, but in spite of his best efforts it 
partook of the character of the parting bread-breaking. 

“You — ^you won’t be getting into danger so much, Mr. 
Black, will you, as if you was a regular soldier?” Mrs. 
Hodder suggested timidly, as the dinner drew to a finisTi 
with not more than half the food she had prepared con- 
sumed. It was the first time her thrifty nature had ever 
thus let itself go, and she had looked conscience-stricken 
ever since she realized the situation. But her question 
voiced the thought uppermost in her mind. It took 
precedence even of her worry about the terrible waste 
of which she had been guilty! 

“Oh, you’re not to be anxious over any danger for me,” 
Black assured her, smiling across the table at her. “Just 
remember that some day you’ll get up another just such 
splendid dinner as this for me, and then we’ll eat it with 
better appetites. I shall come back ravenous for home 
cooking, as all soldiers do.” 

“Then — you’ll keep the place open for me, sir?” 

“You’ll keep it open for me, Mrs. Hodder. It’s you 
who will be in demand for other positions. I’ll think my- 
self lucky if you promise to come back to me.” 

He was glad to get away now from her tearful face, for 
this assurance upset her completely, and she could only 
apologize and weep again into a large handkerchief already 
damp from the demands made upon it at the morning 
service. 

Red and the big Macauley car were at the door now 


NO OTHER WAY 297 

with Mrs. Burns, Jane Ray, and little Sue Dunstan already 
established in it. They were olF and away at once. 
Black sat beside Red, and the two fell into talk while 
those behind silently watched them. They were an inter- 
esting pair to watch, in conversation. 

‘‘They are so different, one would hardly have expected 
them to become such devoted friends,” Mrs. Burns said 
to Jane, after a time. 

“Oh, do you think they are so different?” Jane glanced 
from the black head to the red one — they were not far 
apart. Black’s arm was stretched along the back of 
the seat behind Red; he was leaning close and talking 
rapidly in Red’s ear. The latter was listening intently; 
from time to time he nodded emphatically, and now and 
then he interjected a vigorous exclamation of assent. 
Evidently, whatever the subject under consideration, 
they were remarkably agreed upon it — which had by no 
means always been the case in past discussions. Perhaps 
they were agreeing to agree to-day, since it was the last — 
for so long. 

“They ^eem to me much alike,” Jane went on, at Mrs. 
Burns’ look of inquiry. “Not in personality, of course, 
but — ^well — in force of character, and in the way they both 
go straight at a thing and never let go of it till they have 
accomplished what they set out to do.” 

“That’s true; it may be the secret of the sympathy 
between them. For a long time I thought they would 
never get together, but it’s been coming, and now — and 

to-day This has been such a wonderful day, in spite 

of the sadness of it! You were at morning service?” 

“Yes, Mrs, Burns.” 

“None of us will ever forget it.” 

“No.” 


298 RED AND BLACK 

The big car had them up in the hills in short order. As 
they came over the last steep rise Red whistled sharply 
with surprise. 

‘‘My faith!” he ^'aculated. “Where do they all come 
from, in this God-forsaken region!” 

“God hasn’t forsaken it. That’s a man-made phrase. 
But they can’t all come from this locality. I should say 
not — and they haven’t. . . Why, there are my boys — 

any number of them. Well ! ” 

Black leaped out of the ear, which had been instantly 
surrounded. Here they certainly were, ranks upon ranks 
of boys and young men, not only from his church but from 
the town outside. Every one of them wore a tiny Ameri- 
can flag on his coat-lapel. 

‘‘You see,” explained young Perkins, lively usher at the 
Stone Church, “we didn’t see how we could spare you to 
come off up here this last day unless we came along. 
Please excuse us for butting in, but we couldn’t stand it 
any other way.” 

“We mean it as a sort of guard of honour,” declared a tall 
boy, just out of short trousers, and extraordinarily dis- 
putatious for his age, with whom Black had held many a 
warm argument in past days. “Besides, we ” 

Evidently something was on the tip of his tongue which 
had to be suppressed, for he Was hauled olF by Perkins 
in a hurry while others took his place. The young men 
all seemed much excited, and Black had to bring them 
to order lest they put the rest of his audience in the 
background. There were plenty of men and women, 
and even children present, who were obviously from the 
hill region, and these were they whom he had come to 
meet. 

Under his direction Perkins shortly proved that his 


NO OTHER WAY 299 

talents as an usher could be exercised quite as well in the 
open air as under the stately roof of the home church. 
He soon had the assemblage massed on a side hill which he 
had selected as a sort of amphitheatre where all could see 
and hear the man who stood upon the flat and grassy 
plateau below. From this point of vantage presently 
Black spoke to them. 

One of the reporters of the morning, at the edge of the 
crowd, sat taking notes in the very shortest of shorthand. 
He needed all his powers now, even more than he had 
needed them in the morning, for Black spoke fast and 
crisply, as a man speaks when he feels the time is short 
and there is much to say. As the young reporter set down 
his dots and dashes he was subconsciously exulting to 
himself: ‘‘Gee, but Fm glad I got in on this! What a 
bully story this’ll make!” 

It did make a story, but it was one which like that of 
the morning could never be fully written. The words 
Robert Black spoke now were not words like those of the 
morning. He was looking into faces whose aspect gripped 
his very soul; it seemed to him that they had all the same 
expression — one of exceeding hunger. Even his boys — 
though he was not talking now to them — were watching 
him as those watch who are being fed. There is no look 
like that to inspire a man, to draw out his best and biggest, 
and it drew Black’s now, beyond anything of which he had 
before been capable. The day, the hour, the near ap- 
proach of his departure, that “last chance” conviction 
which had spurred him all day — all these facts and forces 
combined to make of this final, most informal service he 
was to hold in his own country for many a day the richest 
and most worthy of them all. If it were not so, then those 
— Black’s nearest friends — ^who listened with '"reatest 


300 RED AND BLACK 

appreciation and best capacity for judgment, were might- 
ily deceived. 

Red stood with folded arms at the very back of the 
audience, his hazel eyes seldom leaving the figure of his 
friend. What was in his heart none could have told. His 
face was set like a ruddy cameo as Ellen his wife looked 
up at it now and again. Beyond him Jane Ray stood be- 
side a great elm; she leaned a little against it, as if she 
needed its support. It was a tremendous hour for her, 
following, as it did, all the repressed emotion of the morn- 
ing. Her face had lost much of its usual warm colour, — 
her fine lips tensed themselves firmly against possible 
tremor. Could she live through the day, she asked her- 
self now and then — live through it and not cry out a re- 
cantation of the old position of unbelief, not call to Heaven 
to witness her acceptance of a new one, passionately be- 
lieving — and then run into the arms she knew must open 
for her? But she was dumb. Even he would not trust 
a change in her now, she was sure, though his eloquence 
this day had been that to sway far harder hearts than hers. 
No, she must let him go — there was no other way. She 
had made her bed and heaped it high with distrust and 
scorn, and she must lie on it. Even for him she could not 
take up that bed and walk! 

Black ceased speaking. The hush over the hillside, 
for the full minute following, was that of the calm before 
the storm. Then — the storm came. Black's young men 
— twenty of them from the Stone Church — and eleven 
from the town, thirty-one in all — stirred, looked about at 
one another, nodded one to another, came forward to- 
gether. 

“Mr. Black," said young Perkins, simply enough-^ 
fortunately he had not tongue nor taste for oratory — • 


NO OTHER WAY 301 

*‘some of us have decided not to let you go ‘over there’ 
alone. Of course we can’t go with you, though we’d like 
to mighty well. But we can enlist — and that’s what 
we’re doing — to-morrow morning. We thought you’d like 
to know.” 

Back up the hillside a smothered sound burst from 
Red’s throat — a queer sound between a groan and a laugh. 
If Black had heard it, he would have understood what it 
meant, and his heart would have ached harder than ever 
for his friend. His wife did understand, and she slipped 
her hand into his, where he crushed it till it ached with 
pain,' and she did not withdraw it. Beside them Jane 
Ray bit her lips until they all but drew the blood. Was 
there no end, then, to the breaking tension of this in- 
credible day? 

“I do like to know,” said Robert Black, his eyes fiery 
with joy and sorrow and all the things a man may feel 
when a group of young patriots offer their all, unknowing 
half what it means, but understanding enough to make the 
act enormously significant of forming character, ‘‘and 
I’m proud and happy beyond words.” 

A hulking young giant from the hills stumbled for- 
ward, and spoke diffidently from the edge of the^ group: 

“I guess I’ll be goin’ too,” he said. 

Perkins whirled. “Bully for you!” he shouted, and 
made a flying wedge of himself through the other fellows, 
to shake the giant’s brawny hand. 

There came a second hill boy, younger and slighter than 
the first. “He’s my pardner,” he said, with an awkward 
gesture toward the other. “I guess if he goes, that’ll 
mean me too.” 

There were four of these. Fathers and mothers rose 
in protest. The first lad turned and faced them. 


RED AND BLACK 


302 

“Looky here!” he called defiantly. “We ain’t goin’ 
to let them city fellers do our fightin’, are we? Not on 
your life!” 

That settled it. They were not going to let anything 
like that happen — not on those unhappy lives of theirs. 

It was over. The car got away from the last clinging 
young hand that would have detained it, and in the long 
shadows of the late afternoon swung down the hills to the 
plain below, and the big town, and the last hours of the 
day. When at length it halted in Jane’s narrow street 
beside her door, above which her little sign no longer hung, 
Black, getting out with her and Sue, said a word in Red’s 
ear. The other shook his head. 

“We’ll wait,” he insisted. “You’ve mighty little time 
to spare now, if you have a bit of a snack with us before 
your train goes. And I vow we won’t let you off from 
that.” 

“I don’t want to be let olF. Give me five minutes here, 
and I’ll be with you.” 

“We will come back for you at train time. Miss Ray,” 
said Mrs. Burns. 

“You don’t think best to ask her to supper with us?” 
questioned Red, as the others disappeared into the now 
empty shop. 

“I asked her and she refused. I knew she would.” 

“Don’t wonder. These blamed last stunts ” 

Red lapsed into a dark silence, his chin sunk upon his 
broad chest. 

Within the shop Black turned to Sue. “Go out in the 
garden, and wait, will you. Sue?” he asked, with the smile 
which the child would have obeyed no matter what request 
had gone with it. Reluctantly she closed the shop door 
behind her. In the dismantled, empty place, where he 


NO OTHER WAY 303 

had first met Jane nearly eighteen months before, Black 
said what he had come in to say. 

I shall write — and you will answer. We can’t do with- 
out that, can we? And there’s no reason why we should. 
Is that understood?” 

‘Tf you wish it.” 

“Don’t you wish it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thank you for standing by me this day. I know it’s 
been hard for you. I couldn’t help that — I had to have 
you. You’re not sorry — you stayed by?” 

“No.” 

“Jane — there are a thousand things I want to say to 
you, but they^ ve all got to go unsaid — except one. Where- 
ever I am — wherever you are — it will be the same with 
me. There’ll be no one else — there never can be, now. 
I wanted you to know — if you didn’t know already.” 

“Yes.” 

“Haven’t you a word to say to me — ^Jane?” 

She shook her head, trying to smile. “What is there 
to say? Except — good-bye.” 

“I wish I could put words into your lips,” cried Robert 
Black, under his breath. “I want to hear you say them 
so. At least — ^Jane — I can’t go without — once more ” 

She was silent. It was somehow as if her will were in 
shackles, and held her so she could neither move nor 
speak. When they had been together at the seashore it 
had been she who had said the more, she who had forced 
the issue. Now — she was like a dumb thing, suffering 
without power to free herself. It seemed to her that her 
heart must break if he did not take her in his arms, and 
yet she could not show him that heart. The whole day 
had seemed to build a barrier mountains high between 


RED AND BLACK 


304 

them, which she could do nothing to lower. Her hands, 
pressed close to her sides as she stood before him, made 
themselves into fists, the nails pressing into the firm pink 
palms until they all but cut the flesh. 

Suddenly he reached down and seized the hands in his, 
then looked at them in amazement, as he drew them up 
to view, because they did not relax. 

‘‘What does this mean?” he asked her quickly. “Are 
you — as unhappy — as that?” 

She lifted her eyes then, and let him see; — what he could 
not help seeing. It was as far beyond what she had let 
him see on that other day as this day in their lives was 
greater than that. 

“Oh, Jane! — Oh, my dear!” He could only whisper 
the words. “And I have — to leave you!” 

“Yes. Good-bye ” she said again, steadily. 

He let go one of her hands, and with his strong fingers 
made her loosen one gripped fist. Then — the other. 

“I can’t bear to see them like that,” he said, with a 

queer, tortured smile. “I want ” And he lifted first 

one palm and then the other to his lips, and then gently 
closed the fingers again. “ Don’t hold them so tight again 
— please!” he said. “I don’t want to have to remember 
them — that way. Jane — I don’t know how to go!” 

“You must. Doctor Burns is waiting for you. Don’t 
mind about me.” 

“Don’t mind about you!” It was a cry of pain. 
“Wh)r — ^you’re all I do mind about — now. I’ve done all 
the things I had to do to-day — they’re all done — every- 
thing’s done — but this. And this — ^why, this — ^is so much 
the hardest thing of all ” 

How could he speak at all, she wondered, when she 
could not? She did not realize that expression of one 


NO OTHER WAY 


305 

sort or another was the breath of his life to-day. That 
having poured himself out, all day, to others, he could 
not cease from giving; that though to-morrow might bring 
upon him a silence and an immobility as great as her own, 
for to-day his lips must have speech; his spirit, action. 

‘‘J^ne — you won’t deny me — I can’t go without it. 
God knows our hearts — knows ” 

He left his own heart on her lips then, in one bitter- 
sweet moment of such spending as he had never known — 
or she — and went away, leaving her alone there in the 
deserted shop with the memory of his whispered, God 
bless you — my Jane!” She ran to the window, screening 
herself from view as best she could, and saw him get into 
the car, and ^"w the car leap away down the narrow street. 

An hour later she was at the station. Black had not 
been in the car when it had come for her; it was full of 
other people — the Macauleys and the Chesters, Red’s 
neighbours and among Black’s best friends. Mrs. Burns 
explained that the minister’s new guard, the boys who were 
to enlist to-morrow, had come for him in a body, and had 
borne him away in the biggest car they had been able 
to find. 

At the station there was the expected crowd, only it 
was a larger crowd than any of them could have antici- 
pated. It was evening now, and almost dark, and it was 
beginning to rain. The station lights shone on banks of 
lifted umbrella tops; the little flags in the young men’s 
coats grew wet. People went about saying what a pity 
it was that it had to rain. And if it hadn’t been Sunday 
night there would have been a band. Jane found herself 
very thankful that there was no band. And then, sud- 
denly, there was a band — a small one, playing ‘‘Onward, 
Christian Soldiers,” and the crowd was singing with it. 


RED AND BLACK 


306 

Jane wondered, through her dumb pain, how Robert 
Black was bearing that! 

Red was out of the car and olF in the crowd — ^no doubt 
but he was with Black. He had been heard to express the 
hope that the blamed train would be on time and cut the 
agony short, but of course it wasn’t. It was only ten 
minutes late, however, though to Jane those ten minutes, 
marked by the clock on the car’s dash, were the longest 
she had ever known. Then — there was the shrill whistle 
in the distance she had been waiting for, coming at an 
interval in the music, and she heard it plainly, and her 
heart stopped beating. 

Black and Red were at the door of the car — they had 
had to push their way through the people. Black was 
shaking hands with Mrs. Burns — ^with Mrs. Macauley — 
with everybody. Then Jane felt her hand in his, and lifted 
her eyes to meet his. The headlight from another car 
shone full in his face; she saw it as if it looked at her from 
very far away. But his eyes — yes, she could see his eyes 
— and see how they were piercing hers, as if he would look 
through to her very soul for that last time — oh, she was 
sure it was for the last time! 

He did not say a word to her — ^not a word. But his 
hand,#for that instant, spoke for him. Then he had gone 
away again, through the crowd, for the train was in, and 
the locals made but short stops. A shout went up — 
Black’s young men waved their arms, their flags — their 
unbrellas — everything they had. 

He stood on the back platform, as he so often had stood 
before, when the train pulled out. He looked back at 
them, the crowds, the flags, the umbrella tops — but he saw 
only one thing — the thin, gleaming rails, stretching away, 
farther and farther into the distance — and the night. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 


T he morning papers! How many did Red have of 
them ? 

Robert Black had been away for almost a year. Jane 
Ray’s little shop had been so long closed that few now 
turned down the narrow street, forgetting that the sign 
no longer told where the rarest and most valuable things 
in town surely could be found. People had ceased to ask 
who was the tall young man with the interesting face who 
was said to write the most brilliant articles to be found in 
certain columns of one of the great dailies. Tom Lockhart 
was gone, and Harry Perkins, and many another figure 
from the suburban streets. Only an occasional youth 
could be seen now and then upon a delivery wagon. 
Girls were everywhere, taking the places of the young 
men who had gone. Everything was changed — every- 
thing; now that war had come so near that it could be 
felt. 

Those morning papers! Red bought and bought, not 
satisfied with the morning and evening editions delivered 
at his door. He came home with bundles of them under 
his arm, and scanned them hurriedly, his face darkening 
as he read. For th^ news was heavy news, of losses and 
reversals, of a gathering tide which could not be stemmed, 
of worn and wasted French and British regiments falling 
slowly but surely back because it was not possible to hold 
307 


3o8 red and black 

another hour against the tremendous odds of reinforced 
enemy lines. 

“When will we get in? Great God, those fellows can’t 
hold out forever!” Red would shout, dashing the latest 
paper to the floor where its black and ominous headlines 
seemed to stare back at him with the inescapable truth 
in each sinister word. “We’ll get into it too late — they 
can’t stand such awful pressure. Oh, if we’d been ready! 
— instead of sleeping on our arms. Arms — ^we hadn’t 
any — though they kept telling us — the men who knew. 
We thought we were fine and fit — ^we — fat and heavy with 
easy lives. Yes, we’re awake now but we’ve a long; 
way yet to run to get to the fire, and meanwhile, the 
world is burning up!” 

So he would rage, up and down the long living-room 
in his own home, unable to find a ray of light in the whole 
dark situation. Even more poignant than these were his 
anxieties of a personal sort. Where — when he stopped 
to think about it — ^was Robert Black, that he hadn’t been 
heard from now for many weeks? Black had gone across 
with one of the first divisions, one made up of men many 
of whom had had former army training, men fit to fight 
at once, who had gone away believing that they would soon 
see active service. By great good fortune — or so Black 
had esteemed it — he had been sent for at the last minute 
to take the place of an old regimental chaplain who had 
fallen seriously ill. The substitute’s early and persistent 
applications for a post had commended him as one who 
meant to go anyhow, and so might as well be given the 
opportunity first as last. That was the sort they had 
wanted, for that was the sort they were themselves. 

“Why, Bob’s last letter’s dated a good two months 
back,” Red announced, one June morning of that second 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 309 

summer, scanning the well-worn sheets. How many 
times had he read that letter, his wife wondered as she 
saw him consulting its pages again. Black wrote remark- 
ably interesting letters. In spite of censorship he somehow 
managed to get in all sorts of vivid paragraphs in which not 
the sharpest eye could detect forbidden information — 
there was none there. But there was not lacking keen 
character drawing, graphic picturing of effect of sun and 
shadow, stimulating reactions, amusing anecdote. Red 
had never enjoyed any correspondence in his life as he 

had that with the chaplain of the th regiment, 

th division. And this was for many reasons, chief 

of which was the great and ever-growing bond of friend- 
ship between the two men, which separation just after 
it had been made forever secure had only served incredibly 
to strengthen and augment. 

*T don’t understand it. I don’t like it. I wish I could 
hear,” Red complained, replacing the thin sheets in the 
now tattered flimsy envelope with the foreign postmarks 
and the official stamps of various sorts which proclaimed 
it a military missive. “He was writing fairly regularly 
up to that date, but then he stopped short off, as if he 
had been shot. Oh, I didn’t mean that — queer how 
that old common phrase needs to be avoided now. It’s 
none too improbable, either, in his case, if he ever gets 
near the Front. He’ll be no rear-guard sort of chaplain — 
that’s easy enough to know.” 

He went off about his work, on this particular morning, 
with a heavier heart than usual. He hadn’t counted up 
before, just how many weeks it was since he had heard 
from Black; he only knew that he had been scanning the 
mails with a disappointed eye for a good while now. 
Where could Black be — ^what had happened to prevent 


310 RED AND BLACK 

his writing as before? Hang it! — Red wished he could 
hear this very day. His mental vision called up clearly the 
man’s handwriting on the foreign envelope; he always 
liked the look of it so well. It was rather a small script, 
but very clear, black, and full of character; the t’s were 
invariably crossed with vigour, and there were only straight 
forward marks, no curlycues. He wished he could see 
that handwriting within the hour, wished it with a queer 
certainty that he should most certainly not see it, either 
to-day or to-morrow. Black was somewhere olF the line 
of communication, he grew surer and surer of it. 

As the day advanced Red found his presentiment that 
his friend was close to danger amounting to a conviction. 
Red was not an imaginative person, and ordinarily he was 
a perastent optimist; to-day it seemed to be impossible 
to summon a particle of optimism concerning either the 
duration of the war or the personal safety of the man he 
cared for so deeply. He did care for him deeply — he no 
longer evaded or made light of his affection for Robert 
Black. What was the use? It was a fact accomplished; 
nothing that happened or didn’t happen could now change 
it; everything seemed to intensify it. 

Close to eleven o’clock of the evening of this day Red 
was returning from a call which had taken him out just 
as he was beginning to think longingly of rest and sleep. 
Passing a news-stand he had ^bought the latest evening 
edition of the latest city daily sent out to the suburbs, 
and had found in it only a deepening presage of coming 
disaster to the armies of the Allies. This paper was stick- 
ing out of his pocket as he walked wearily along the de- 
serted streets of the residence district, through a night 
air still and heavy with the lingering heat of the day. He 
took off his hat and mopped his forehead. Was it hot and 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 31 1 

still and heavy with languor and dread over there at this 
hour, too, he wondered, up on that bending Western front? 
Or were the shells bursting and the sky red and yellow with 
the flares of the guns, and black with smoke and death? 
Allowing for the difference in time it was almost four in the 
morning over there. Wasn’t it about this hour that things 
were apt to happen, over there, after a night of waiting? 
Wasn’t this often the “Zero” hour — ‘‘over there”? 

To reach his own home he would naturally go by the 
manse, unless he went a little out of his way. It must be 
confessed that Red had acquired the habit, since Black 
left town, of going that little out of his way, when coming 
home at night from this part of town, to avoid passing the 
Stone Church and the deserted manse close by in its large 
shadow. He didn’t know quite why he should have 
yielded, at first unconsciously, afterward with full recogni- 
tion of his feeling about it, to the wish not to see the drawn 
shades and darkened windows of his friend’s former habi- 
tation. But on this evening, somehow, almost without 
his own consent he found himself turning at that corner 
to go by the house. 

Dark? Yes, it was dark — almost darker than usual, it 
seemed; though this was undoubtedly because the near- 
est arc-light was burning more feebly than ordinarily to- 
night. Anyhow, the place was enveloped in gloom. It 
presented a very different aspect from that which had be- 
longed to it during the term of Black’s residence. His 
study had been one of the big square rooms upon the 
front, its windows always lighted in the evening, the 
shades drawn only low enough to insure privacy, not to 
prevent the warm glow of the study light from telling its 
friendly tale of the occupant within, at home to all comers 
at all hours, as he had been at pains to make understood. 


RED AND BLACK 


312 

Red didn’t like to look at those dark windows. Many 
and many a time during the last months before Black’s 
departure, after the friendship between the two men had 
become a known quantity no longer negligible, the big 
doctor had turned aside from the straight road home to 
make a late call in that study, the light beckoning him 
more and more irresistibly. Weary, or blue, or fuming 
over some unlucky or harassing happening in his work, 
he had gone stumbling or storming in, always to find a 
hearty welcome, and such quiet understanding and com- 
radeship as soon eased the situation, whether he knew it 
then or only afterward. Many a pipe had he smoked 
while sitting in Black’s old red-cushioned rocker — to 
which he had taken an odd fancy — and many a story had 
he told, or listened to. . . . There could be no pipe- 

smoking there to-night, nor telling of stories. The fire 
upon that hearthstone was cold. God only knew when it 
would be lighted again, or whose hand would light it. 

Red turned in at the walk which led to the manse door. 
He did not want to turn in, yet he could not go by. The 
lawn before the house was shaven; it had to be kept up 
because there was no dividing line between it and the close- 
cut green turf which surrounded the Stone Church. Be- 
tween the vestry door and side door of the manse ran a 
short walk, so that the minister had only a few steps to 
take when he crossed the narrow space. Somehow Red 
could almost see the tall, well-built figure striding across 
that space, the strong face full of spirit. . . . 

He took a turn about the house, completely circling 
it, telling himself that now he was here he might as well 
see that all was as it should be from front to rear. Re- 
turning to the front, he heard a distant clock in the centre 
of the town booming out the slow strokes of the hour — 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 313 

eleven. Four o’clock it was then on that Western front, 
three thousand miles away. Was Black there — or any- 
where near there.? Wherever he was it might be that — 
well — ^was there any reason why Red shouldn’t be able 
to get him out of his mind .? And was there any reason 
why Red shouldn’t do what he was now suddenly im- 
pelled to do? According to Black’s own code there was 
every reason why he should do it — and none conceivable 
against it. Sentimental superstition.? — or great spiritual 
forces at work of which he could know nothing, except 
to feel their power? 

He went over to the vestry door — a narrow door of 
classic outline and black oak austerity, appearing in the 
deep shadow like the entrance to the unknown. He leaned 
his uplifted arm against it, and rested his bared head 
against his arm. Somehow he felt nearer to his absent 
friend in this spot than he had ever felt before. 

‘‘O God,” he implored, under his breath, “wherever he 
is — take care of him. He’s worth a lot of taking care 
of — and he won’t do it himself — somehow I know that. 
Just do it for him — will You?” 

On this same night, at a Field Hospital, ten miles back 
from the firing line on a certain sector of the French Front, 
Jane Ray went about her duties. It was a comparatively 
x^uiet night; no fresh casualties had come in for several 
hours, and none was expected before morning. 

Beginning as nurses’ helper Jane had worked and studied 
at all hours, had faced several examinations, and was now, 
by virtue of the pressing demand and the changed re- 
quirements which in war time hasten suA matters, an 
accredited nurse with a diploma. She had thought many 
times gratefully of a certain red-headed surgeon back in 


RED AND BLACK 


3H 

the States, who had put her through many grilling tests 
of his own since he had learned what she had in view. 
Not once but often she had watched him operate; hours 
on end had she listened to informal lectures from his lips, 
delivered at the back of her shop when custom was slack. 
It had all helped immensely in her work of preparation, 
and in her dogged purpose to make herself fit for service 
in the least possible time. And now she was at the very 
goal of her desires, having for the last month been serving 
as near the active Front as a nurse may get, the Field 
Hospital to which the wounded are sent from the First- 
Aid Station. 

It had become to her an almost passionate joy to give 
these poor fellows their first sense of real comfort. Though 
the resources at hand were often far less than adequate 
to the demand, when cases poured instill the hurriedly 
arranged accommodations were full to overflowing and there 
was no such thing as supplying every need, this was the 
time when Jane most exulted in her work. Physically 
strong, though she was often weary to exhaustion, a few 
hours of sleep would put her on her feet again, and she 
would go back to her task with a sense of being at last 
where she was born to be. She managed somehow to 
give to her patients the impression that no matter how 
busy or hurried she might be she had something to spare 
for each one of them, and this perhaps was one of the 
greatest services she rendered. Skilful though her hands 
and brain had become at ministering to the wants of the 
wounded bodies, her heart had grown still wiser in its 
knowledge of the larger needs of the tried spirits of those 
who lay before her. Tender yet bracing was the atmos- 
phere which she carried everywhere with her. It is the 
aura which to a greater or less degree surrounds every 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 31s 

true nurse, and Jane, in acquiring it, had but learned the 
rudiments of her profession. Yet perhaps she had rather 
more than the ordinary capacity for divination of the 
peculiar and individual necessities of the men under her 
care, for certain it was that most of them preferred her 
to any of the others, accomplished and devoted though 
they all were. It is quite possible that the fact that she 
was, as the boys put it among themselves, so ‘‘easy to 
look at,” may have accounted for a portion of her popu- 
larity, but surely not for all. 

They did not stay long with her; it was a matter of but 
a few days in most cases, before they were moved back 
to the Evacuation Hospital, many miles in the rear. She 
had not time to get to know any of them well; yet some- 
how in even that brief interval of experience she and they 
usually arrived at a feeling of acquaintance which often 
became a memory not to be forgotten. 

On this June night Jane found herself returning more 
than once to a certain patient who had been brought in 
early in the evening suffering from rather severe injuries. 
The surgeons had decided against immediate operation; 
he was to be retained here only long enough to recover 
from shock, and to be got into shape for the journey back 
to the Base. He was only a boy, or looked so, in spite of 
the lines which pain had brought into his face. He was 
not able to sleep, and for certain definite reasons he had 
been given nothing to make him sleep. Each time Jane 
came by she found him lying with eyes wide open; restless 
of body his injuries did not permit him to be, for he was 
strapped and bandaged into a well-nigh immovable posi- 
tion. Clearly his mind was doing double duty, and being; 
restless for both. 

As she stopped beside his cot again, he looked up at her 


3i6 red and black 

and spoke, for the first time. His eyes had followed he* 
all night, whenever she came in range, but she was used 
to that. Eyes wakeful at night always follow a nurse; 
she is a grateful vision to men long removed from the sight 
of women; the very lines of the uniform are restful to 
look at. The face beneath the veil-like head-dress need 
not be a beautiful one to be attractive; it needs only to be 
friendly and compassionate; if it can show a capacity 
for humour, so much the better. In Jane’s case, actual 
loveliness of feature drew the gaze of those tired young 
eyes, many of which had seen only ugliness and horror 
for a long, long time. The casualty cases thus far had 
been confined almost entirely to the French and British, 
with an occasional American enlisted in a foreign division. 
It was only within the last few days that the men from 
Jane’s own country had begun to come under her care, 
showing that at last, as they had so longed to be, they 
were ‘‘in.” 

This boy, beside whom Jane paused in her rounds, and 
who now spoke to her, had had from the first something 
familiar about him. But she had not been able to place 
him in her remembrance and had decided that it was only 
the type she recognized, not the individual. Now, how- 
ever, as she bent to catch the low-spoken words, she real- 
ized what had happened; here was a boy from home! 

“You don’t know me, do you?” he said, with dif- 
ficulty. 

“I almost thought I did, but wasn’t sure. Do you come 
from my town and ought I to know you? You see — ^you 
must have changed quite a bit.” 

She was looking intently into his face, and her reassur- 
ing smile answered his wistful one. 

“No, I didn’t expect you to know me, but I — kind of 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 317 

hoped — you would. I know you. You was there when 
I said Fd enlist — up on the hill.” 

Her thoughts leaped back to that last Sunday of Robert 
Black’s departure and to the service on the hillside. Her 
face lighted with recognition, and the boy saw it. 

‘‘Oh, yes — I do remember — of course I do. I sewed a 
star on a service flag for you and the other three who went 
from the hill, and took it up to the schoolhouse before I 
went away. I think I know your name.” She racked her 
memory hastily for it and found it, and the boy’s eyes were 
suffused with joy as she spoke it. “Aren’t you — Enos 
Dyer?” 

“Yes, I’m Enie Dyer, only I don’t like to be called 
that over here ’cause it sounds like ‘Heinie.’ Say,” — he 
scanned her face anxiously, — “know anything ’bout where 
the preacher is now?” 

“Mr. Black? Nothing at all. It is weeks since I 
had any news of him. His division has been sent up 
toward the Front, and they may be in things by now; we 
get only rumours here about what is happening on the 
other sectors.” 

“I wish I knew,” he said anxiously. “I get to thinkin’ 
’bout him a lot. He didn’t know me any, but I knew him 
all right. After that time he buried the Dunstan girl 
I used to come down to his church. I liked to hear him 
talk. But I always skun out the minute things was over, 
so he never really did lay eyes on me till that last day. 
I don’t s’pose he’d remember me.” 

Jane would have liked to let him say more, to have 
questioned him closely, herself eager to hear the least 
mention of the name which was always in the background 
of her thoughts. But she knew that he must not be al- 
lowed to use his feeble powers in this way. So after as- 


RED AND BLACK 


318 

sunng him that Black was not the man to forget the four 
boys from the hill who had enlisted on that memorable 
day, she went oh upon her rounds, her own mind filled with 
the vivid recollections young Dyer’s words had called up. 

But she could not come near him on this night without 
his eyes imploring her to give him another word. So 
she learned that he was most unhappy lest the injuries 
he had received prevent his return to the Front, and was 
worrying badly about it. She became presently so in- 
terested in his state of mind that she called the atten- 
tion of one of the surgeons to him. Doctor Mills read 
the record upon his cot-tag, looked at Dyer keenly through 
his big horn spectacles, and smiled, his own tired, thin 
face relaxing its tense look of care. 

‘‘You’ll get back, my lad,” he said, “when they’ve 
fixed you up. With that spirit you’ll get an5rwhere.” 

Enos Dyer’s lips trembled. “It’s all right, then,” he 
murmured, with a sigh of relief. “I haven’t done nothin’ 
yet, an’ I figger to, ’fore I get through.” 

“What were you doing when you got these?” The 
surgeon indicated Dyer’s bandaged shoulder and his 
slung leg. 

“Just tryin’ a little job o’ my own, sir.” 

“Not under orders?” 

“Well, I guess I was under orders, sir — but the gettin* 
through was sort o’ up to me.” 

“ I see. Y ou’re a company runner ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The surgeon went away. Jane did what she could to 
induce sleep for Dyer, who needed it badly, but his eyes 
were still wide when dawn drew near. By and by, as she 
came to give him water, which he drank thirstily, he said 
slowly: 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 319 

“Did you hear the preacher the time he told about 
that feller Daniel in ’mongst the lions?” 

“No, I don’t think so, Enos.” 

“I was just wonderin’ if he was in ’mongst ’em now^ 
anywheres. If he is, I guess he won’t get hurt. I’ve 
thought about that story a lot since I heard him tellin’ 
it. I guess if God could take care of anybody when lions 
was walkin’ all ’round him. He could do it when anybody 
was fightin’, don’t you? And I guess the preacher’s 
fightin’, wherever he is.” 

Jane’s lips smiled a little. “Chaplains don’t fight, 
you know.” 

“I’ll bet he does,” Dyer insisted. 

She didn’t try to change his conviction, but somehow it 
took hold of her; and presently, in a strange hush that fell 
just before the dawn, when there came a cessation of sound 
of the guns which usually were to be heard clearly at this 
distance from the Front, she stood in a doorway that faced 
the east and took a well-worn letter from her pocket. In 
the faint light from within the ward her eyes once more 
scanned lines she already knew by heart. 

Letters from Black had reached her infrequently and 
the latest was dated weeks ago. Of course he could give 
her no details of his movements, neither past nor expected; 
she understood also that he could say little of that which 
was personal to himself and Jane. No man writes for the 
scrutinizing eye of a censor that which he would say to 
one alone. Yet somehow he had managed to convey a very 
vivid sense of his presence, and of his constant thought 
of her, in the midst of his work among his men. The 
last paragraph, especially, was one to stay by her while 
she should have a memory, reserved though the words 


were: 


320 RED AND BLACK 

“I am very sure that in all this experience you are having 
you must find the thing I so much want you to find. 
How can you escape it? It is all around you. I can’t 
get away from it a minute. You know what I mean. I 
never felt it so strongly, nor so depended upon it. Every 
hour it is in my thought of you. You are well up toward 
the Front now, I suppose. At any time a bomb may be 
dropped on your Hospital; it is always a shining mark for 
the enemy. Yet I am not anxious about you. For this 
I know: — whatever happens to you or me, it can do no 
harm to the eternal thing which is ours.” 

She read the words again and again. Well she knew 
what they meant; in spite of the restraint in them they 
were full to the brim with his feeling toward her. Where 
was he now — near — or far? There had been a rumour 
here that the division in which he served had been sud- 
denly rushed from its training trenches to the Front, in a 
desperate attempt to stem the creeping enemy tide threat- 
ening to become a deluge and wash away all defences. 
There were many rumours; few could be trusted. But it 
might easily be true; he might at this very hour be under 
fire, even though he remained in the shelter of trench or 
dugout. Would he stay in such shelter? The question had 
never occurred to her in just this form before. Her ideas 
of the duties of a regimental chaplain were all based on the 
knowledge that he was a non-combatant, like Cary. She 
had had far more fears for her brother, with his tempera- 
ment, full of recklessness and daring, than for Robert 
Black. But now, though she scouted the idea of Black’s 
actually fighting, she had a sudden vision of him in danger. 
If he had gone with his men up to those front lines, where 
was he to-night ? 

Suddenly the distant sky-line burst into flame before her 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 321 

eyes. She had seen it before, that sky-line, during the 
months since she had come to the Field Hospital, but al- 
ways before it had been when she was too busy to stop to 
look at it. Now, in the brief breathing space, she was at 
leisure to study it in all its sinister significance, and to 
listen to the distant thunder of the guns. 

He might not be there — she was very sure he was not, 
for the returning wounded brought fairly accurate reports 
of what divisions were engaged in the fighting in this 
sector. But somewhere — somewhere — on that long, bend- 
ing line, stretching over so many long miles, and now 
grown so thin and in many places so dangerously weak 
compared with the ever augmenting enemy forces — some- 
where there he might be. According to that persistent 
rumour the American troops who had been rushed forward 
were at a point less than twenty miles away. Whatever 
happened, however, none of them would come through 
this particular Field Hospital, and it might be very long 
before she would know definitely how near Black had been 
to actual danger. 

She looked at her little service watch — it was just past 
four. She must go back: it would not be long now before 
the ambulances would be rushing in with the fresh wounded 
sent back from that angry sky-line. The stretcher-bearers 
would be setting their woeful burdens down before her, 
and all she had to give must be theirs, for the hour. 

For a moment she closed her eyes. She still held the 
letter in her hand; she lifted it and laid her cheek against 
it; then she pressed it to her lips. 

‘‘Oh, wherever you are,” she breathed, “I think you 
need me. I think you are thinking of me. But whether 
you are or not — Fm there. — Oh, Robert Black — Vm 
therer 


RED AND BLACK 


322 

In a narrow, winding, muddy ditch — ^which was all it 
was, though it went by another name — ^with short, ladder- 
like places for the ascent of its sides here and there, Robert 
Black was waiting, with a detachment of his men, for a 
certain hour, minute and second previously fixed by orders 
received in the early evening. He was at a crisis in his 
experience which he had known would come some day, 
but it had been long delayed. Now it was at hand. 
These men with whom he had been stationed, throughout 
their voyage overseas, their foreign training, and their 
slow and tedious progress toward the French Front, were 
about to receive their first real test. At that fixed early 
morning hour they were going for the first time “over 
the top.’^ 

By now Black knew most of them pretty well. In the 
beginning they had received him cautiously, watching 
him closely, as a man who comes to a regiment with a cross 
on his collar is bound to be watched. They hadn’t par- 
ticularly liked their former chaplain, whose place Black 
had taken at almost the last hour before they sailed. This 
man had never been able to get very near to them, though 
he had tried conscientiously and persistently to do so. 
They weren’t exactly prejudiced against chaplains — 
they supposed they were somehow necessary and unavoid- 
able adjuncts of military service — but they didn’t see so 
very much use in having them at all. So when Black 
came they had looked him over curiously and not without 
a certain amount of prejudgment. 

The voyage over had been a rough one; a large propor- 
tion of the men had been seasick. Black, who had crossed 
the Atlantic many times on those trips back home to see 
his mother, was a first-rate sailor, and he had had his first 
chance with his men during those long days of storm and 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 


323 

wet and dark discomfort. He had made the most of 14 
though he had taken care not to overdo the effort to bring 
cheer to those who if not seasick were mostly homesick, 
whether they succeeded in concealing it or not. He had 
gone about quietly but efficiently, and the impression he 
had given had been that of one who had cast in his lot 
with his regiment for better or for worse, though he wasn’t 
making any fuss about it. 

When they had reached the other side and gone into 
camp, they soon discovered that the first impression they 
had had of their chaplain held; that he meant to share 
and share alike with them whatever fell to their lot. 
Though he rated as captain and had therefore the right 
to associate with the officers and to mess with them, 
he didn’t seem to be spending much time at it. He 
was very good friends with those in authority, who 
seemed to like him; but he apparently cared more about 
making friends with the private in the ranks than with 
the Major, or the Colonel commanding. He was not a 
joke-maker; he didn’t slap the boys on the shoulder nor 
shout at them; but he carried about with him an atmos« 
phere of good cheer of a quiet sort. And when, now and 
then, it came to a contest of wits, and somebody tried 
to put the chaplain in a corner, he was sure to find his 
way out with a quick and clever retort which brought the 
laugh without making things too uncomfortable for the 
cornerer — unless he deserved it, in which case he was 
pretty sure to wish he hadn’t spoken. 

As to preaching — they crowded to hear him, after the 
first tentative experiment. The same unescapable logic, 
the same clear and challenging appeal, the same unafraid 
plain-speaking which had won Redfield Pepper Burns won 
these men — ^who were only boys after all. When it came 


RED AND BLACK 


324 

to the matter of preaching they were keen and merciless 
critics. They didn’t want to be talked down to; they 
didn’t like to be beguiled into listening with song and 
dance; they wanted a man if he were going to speak to 
them at all to do it without mincing, or setting traps for 
their attention. They wanted him to look like a man and 
act like a man — and unequivocally and all the time be 
a man. In the nature of things, it wasn’t difficult for 
Robert Black to fill this bill. A great many words have 
been written in the effort to tell what soldiers want — 
if they want anything at all — from their chaplain. They 
are not hard to satisfy, critical though they are and pitiless, 
when they detect failure to measure up to their require- 
ments. The greatest of these requirements is certainly 
simple enough and just enough; it’s only what is required 
of themselves, which is to be men and comrades, to the last 
ditch. 

It was not the last ditch, but the first one, to which they 
had come this night. The trench was like other trenches, 
•but they had not been in a front-line trench before; some- 
how it seemed different. The troops whose place they 
had taken were worn and dog-weary, they had quitted 
the place with evident satisfaction; they had held it five 
days after they had expected to be relieved — it was a 
mighty good place to get out of. And now, it was the new 
arrivals’ turn to face the music of the shells and the 
machine-gun fire and the snipers’ bullets — and all the 
rest that was waiting for them. Their chance had come 
at last. 

Black had been ordered to stay in the rear, but he had 
courteously disputed the order, had had it out with his 
superior officer and had been told to go along. This, 
he understood, was a mere matter of form, to try him out. 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 325 

A chaplain had a perfect right to go where he would with 
his men, provided he had the nerve. And why shouldn’t 
Black have the nerve? He had been cultivating it for a 
good many years now, and having been born in Scotland 
he had started out with rather more than his share of it 
in the beginning. Besides, are shot and shell the only 
things to try what a man is made of? 

The men in the trench liked having their chaplain with 
them; there could be no doubt of that, though they by no 
manner of means said so. They hadn’t been expecting 
to have him accompany them to the very Front, and when 
he came along as a matter of course they were glad of it. 
His uniform by now was quite as mud-stained and worn 
as theirs; the only difference was that they were expecting 
to get bullet holes in theirs, while his, they considered, 
with any sort of luck would be kept intact. Even so, 
he was a good sport to stay by until the very last moment, 
and they appreciated it. He was a comfortable sort to 
have around. He wasn’t old enough to be the father of 
any of them, but he was something like an older brother. 
And there was one thing about him they very definitely 
enjoyed, and that was his smile. It wasn’t a broad grin, 
but it was a mighty nice one, and when any man had said 
something that brought that pleasant laugh to Bob’s lips, 
that man always felt decidedly warm and happy inside. 
Because — ^well — the chaplain didn’t go around grinning 
conscientiously at everybody all the while, and his smiie 
wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to win. Yes, the 
secret is out — they called him “Bob” behind his back, 
and they called him that because they liked him in that 
capacity of elder brother. To his face they called him 
“Parson.” 

It was very still and dark in the trench - the raid was to 


326 RED AND BLACK 

start with the opening of the barrage which would cover 
the advance. Night — and darkness — and quiet — and 
the hour before dawn at which the courage of the sons of 
men is at its lowest — no wonder that hearts beat fast and 
faces slackened colour beneath the tan, and the minutes at 
once crawled and raced. They were unquestionably 
nervous, these boys, hard as they tried to keep cool as 
weterans. How would they acquit themselves? — that 
was the thing that worried them. For the fact was that 
an this particular company there was not one who had ever 
seen actual warfare; they were all yet to be tried. 

Black went from one to another, taking whispered 
messages, hastily scrawled notes, which they gave to him, 
and making clear his understanding of the various re- 
quests. They all wanted to shake hands with him, seem- 
ing to feel that this was the proper farewell to take of him 
who was to stay behind. He wasn’t armed, though he 
wore a helmet and gas mask, like themselves; his hands 
were free to take their consignments, as his spirit was free 
to put courage into them. Not that they realized that 
he was doing it; all they knew was that somehow after 
they had had a word with him, and felt that warm hand- 
shake of his, they knew that they were stronger. He 
believed in them — they understood that — and they meant 
to measure up. That was about what ;his presence 
amounted to, which was quite enough. 

One boy, a slender fellow, not long out of hospital where 
he had been sent for a run of an epidemic disease, came to 
Black at almost the last moment with a diffident question. 
^‘Parson,” he whispered, “I want you to do something 
for me. If I — if I should get scared out there — or any- 
thing — and the boys should know about it — and it got 
around — or anything — I — I — ^wish you’d see it didn’t 


AT FOUR IN THE MORNING 327 

get back to my Dad. He — always said Fd get over bein’ 
— shaky — ^when the time came. But — Parson, would you 
think it was awful wrong to — lie about it for me a little ? 
You see, it would cut Dad up like everything — and I 
couldn’t bear ” 

Black put his lips close to the young ear. ‘T won’t 
have to lie, Joe,” he said. ‘T haven’t the least doubt 
of you — not the least. Do you get that? I’m telling 
you the absolute truth.” 

In the darkness Joe smiled. After a moment he whis- 
pered back. “Well, I guess I’ll have to buck up,” he said. 

“You’ve bucked up now,” came back the whisper, and 
Black’s hand clasped his arm tight for an instant. “What 
a muscle you’ve got, Joe!” he declared. 

The arm stiffened, the muscle swelled. “You bet,” 
agreed the boy proudly, and hitched up his cartridge 
belt. “That’s what trainin’ does to a fellow. Well — 
good-by. Parson.” 

“God be with you, Joe! He will — remember that.” 

“Yes, sir — if you say so.” And Joe walked away, 
less “shaky” than he had come. 

Then, presently, it was the “Zero” hour. With the 
first boom and crash of the covering barrage the men were 
up and over the top. The farthest man in the line was 
Joe. No, not the farthest, though Joe had been assigned 
that place, for beyond and beside him, as he went over, 
was Robert Black. 


CHAPTER XIX 

A SCARLET FEATHER 


Dear Sis: 

Fm going to cease setting down the big stuff for a space, while 
1 write to you. Fm just back with a whole skin from spending 
the night up a tree watching this man*s army pull off a great stunt 
in the way of a surprise for the enemy. Fve sent off my stuff for 
my paper and am now resting up — but a letter is due you, and 
Fve found a way to get it to you by special delivery. The mes- 
senger starts in half an hour by motorcycle for your sector, and 
vows he’ll put it in your hands as soon as he’s handed over liis 
dispatches to the C. O. So I can let myself go a bit — if I scrawl 
fast. 

Fve had great luck this last month in meeting up with at least 
three people whom you’ll like to hear about. First: — R. M. B. — 
by the merest chance, for an hour later Fd have missed him. I 
simply turned a comer in a little French town where Fd stopped 
with an officer who was taking me with him up to the Front, and 
ran square into a black-eyed chap with a cross on his collar who 
was so tanned and so husky I didn’t snap to for a full minute. 
He did, though — and had me gripped with a grip like a steel trap. 
“Cary Ray!” he shouted. I knew the voice — I couldn’t forget 
that voice in a hurry — and of course instantly then I knew the 
man. Jolly! Jane, you ought to see him. 

Well, he hadn’t a minute to spare for me, unless Fd go with 
him. “Sure thing,” I agreed. “Fve got an hour to spare while 
Major Ferguson checks up with G. H. Q. here. What’s yout 
little party.?” 

“It’s a burial party,” said he, looking me in the eye, same as 
usual. “If you haven’t had that particular experience, it won’t 
hurt you, and on the way we can talk things over.” 

As it happened I’d passed up the funerals, thus far, being oc- 
328 


A SCARLET FEATHER 


329 

cupied exclusively with the living and those on the other side 
I wanted to see dead. Anyhow, it was worth it to have an hour 
with this particular chaplain, whatever job he was at. So I went 
along. I haven’t time to describe it to you here, but you can 
bet it rated a special half column for my paper. It was a mighty 
simple little alFair, no frills, just a group of sober doughboys, a 
flag, some wooden crosses, and a firing squad — and R. M. B. 
reading the service. But don’t you think ‘‘the Resurrection 
and the Life” didn’t get over to us! 

On the way to the field and back I heard a great piece of news. 
R. M. B’s regiment had been sent back into rest billets, about a 
fortnight before, and a group of entertainers had come through 
the little town one evening and put on a show for them. It was 
some show, and the bright particular star was — oh, you never 
could guess if you hadn’t a clue, any more than I could. Well, 
it was Fanny Fitch! Yes, sir — over here with a bunch of vaude- 
ville people, going around the leave areas and cheering up the 
boys before the next bout. You should have heard the chaplain 
describing the song and dance; I never should have thought it! 
Fanny can’t sing a whole lot — ^just enough to get by, I judge; 
but dance she can, and jolly she does, and the boys fall for it like 
rows of tenpins. The best of it, according to R. M. B., is that she’s 
happy as a summer cloud doing her bit. Why, she’s just plain 
got into the game. Sis, as I told her to do, and I don’t know what 
more you can ask of anybody. You’re nursing, and the chaplain’s 
preaching — and burying — and if he isn’t fighting before he gets 
through I’ll be surprised, knowing how pugilistic he can be. 
And I’m skirmishing on the edge of things with my fountain pen, 
and Fanny Fitch is making eyes at the boys and warming the 
cockles of their tired hearts — bless her heart! And why isn’t 
her job as good as any of ours, since it helps the morale as it’s 
bound to do.J* All I know is I’m going to tear things loose and 
get to see her as soon as I can make it, lest some nerw shave-tail 
lieutenant get a line on her while my back is turned. 

Time’s up. The third meet-up? You’d say it couldn’t happen, 
but it did. It was a week earlier than this that I stood on the 
side of the road and watched a couple of battalions march by on 
their way to the training trenches in a quiet sector. And behold 
there was a first lieutenant as was a first lieutenant, and his name 


RED AND BLACK 


330 

back in the States was Tommy Lockhart! Talk about making a 
man of a man — ^you ought to see our Tom! 

Luck to you and love to you 

Always your same old 

Cary. 

He finished it in a hurry, for the Colonel’s messenger 
could not be kept waiting. After that he did some ma- 
nipulating and manoeuvring, which in the end resulted, 
a few days later, in his getting the chance he wanted 
What Cary could not bring about in one way he could in 
another, and more than one officer and man in authority, 
if he had owned up honestly, would have had to admit that 
a certain war correspondent had a way of asking favours 
which it was somehow difficult to refuse. Cary’s face was 
his fortune, for it was the face of a modest but high-spirited 
non-combatant who was afraid of nothing so that he should 
fulfil his commission. Usually he was asking to be sent 
to the most active front, and pressing his case; so now when 
he wanted to make a dash to the rear, without explaining 
why, those who could further his request were glad to do so. 
It therefore presently came about that young Ray made 
his trip in an official car, in the company of several officers, 
with a number of hours to spare before the return in which 
to hunt up a certain group of entertainers, which he meant 
to locate or perish in the attempt. The more he thought 
about that “shave-tail lieutenant” and others of his ilk, 
the more eager he was to remind Fanny Fitch of his 
presence in this new world of hers. 

The hunt took so much time that it began to look as if 
Cary’s usual luck had deserted him, when he came rather 
suddenly upon his quarry. It was the edge of the evening, 
and the edge of a French town in which was quartered 
a division on its way to the Front. A big audience of men 


A SCARLET FEATHER 331 

was seated on the grass watching a performance taking 
place on an improvised platform, lighted with flaring 
torches. At the moment of Cary’s arrival a young violin- 
ist was playing softly a series of haunting Scottish airs, 
and a hush had fallen over the listeners which spoke of dan- 
gerous susceptibility at a time when men must not be 
permitted to grow soft with dreams. But before this 
state of mind had had a chance to make serious inroads, 
the fiddler changed his tune. He dashed without warning 
into a popular marching song, a lad with a concertina 
leaped upon the stage, and a girl in a scarlet skirt, a black 
velvet coat, and cap with a long, scarlet feather, ran out 
from a sheltering screen. In her arms she carried a great 
flaming bunch of poppies, and over them she laughed down 
at her audience. Standing on the step below the stage 
she began to sing. 

It was just such a song as Cary Ray — and most of the 
boys before him — had heard a thousand times. The 
singer, as he had written Jane, had no real voice for sing- 
ing, only a few clear tones which, the moment the notes 
of the song took her above or below the middle register, 
became forced and breathy; but somehow that didn’t 
much matter. She had a clear enunciation, she had youth 
and a delightfully saucy smile, and she had — ^well — ^what 
is it which makes all the difference between one such per- 
former and another — that elusive quality which none can 
define, but which all can recognize.? Spirit, dash, 
beauty — ^they were all there — and something else — some- 
thing new — something irresistible. What was it? Try- 
ing to discover what it was, Cary gradually made his way 
forward, slipping from one position to another through 
the seated ranks without ever lifting his body high enough 
to attract attention. Nearer and neare** he came to the 


332 RED AND BLACK 

front, and clearer and clearer grew his view of Fanny’s 
laughing face. He didn’t want her to recognize him so 
he kept his own face well in shadow, though he knew that 
in the torchlight her audience must be to her mostly a blui! 
of watching eyes and smiling lips, and masses of olive- 
drab. He came to a halt at length well sheltered behind 
a young giant of a corporal, around whose shoulder he 
could peer in safety. And then he looked for all he was 
worth at the girl who was holding these boys in the grip 
of her attraction, and doing with it what she would. 

And what was she doing with it.? What could Fanny 
have been expected to do.? It was undoubtedly her 
chance to capture more masculine admiration in the lump 
than had ever been her privilege before. There were a 
goodly number of officers in her audience, mostly lounging 
in the rear of the ranks upon the grass, but none the less 
for that foemen worthy of her steel. She had every oppor- 
tunity to use her fascinations with one end, and only one, 
in view. In satisfying her own love of excitement, she 
could easily, under the guise of entertainment, do these 
boys in uniform more harm than good. To tell the honest 
truth it was with this fear in mind that Cary now watched 
her. Great as had been her attraction for him in the past, 
so great did he expect it to be for these others now — and 
it had not been possible in that past for him to fail to 
recognize the subtle nature of that attraction. 

He studied her from the shelter of the broad shoulder 
in front of him with the eyes of a hawk. Let Fanny give 
these young Americans one look which was not what Cary 
Ray wanted it to be, and he would steal away again as 
quietly as he had come and never let her know. He 
wasn’t sure that “R. M. B.” would have recognized what 
he himself would, in the situation; and the fact that Black 


A SCARLET FEATHER 333 

had spoken with such hearty praise of Fanny’s perfor- 
mance hadn’t wholly served to reassure him. She had 
known from the beginning that the chaplain was present 
in her audience — that would make a difference, of course. 
She didn’t know now who was here; Cary would see her 
exactly as she was. It was no chaplain who was watching 
her now, it was an accredited war correspondent with 
every faculty of observation at the alert, his memory 
trained to keep each impression vivid as he had received it. 

It was a long time that Fanny was upon the rough stage, 
for her audience couldn’t seem to have enough of her. 
Again and again they recalled her, having hardly let her 
pass from sight. It was difficult to analyze the absorbing 
interest of her “turn,” made up as It was, like patchwork, 
of all sorts of unexpected bits. Song and story, parade 
and dance — one never knew what was coming next, and 
when it did come it might be the very slightest of sketches. 
It was very evidently her personality which gave the whole 
thing Its attraction; in less clever hands it might have 
fallen flat. Yet through it all seemed to run one thread, 
that of genuine desire to bring good cheer without resort 
to means unworthy. 

Yes, that was what Cary had to concede, before he had 
looked and listened very long. Though she was using 
every art which he had known she possessed, and some he 
hadn’t known of, she was doing it in a way to which he 
could not take exception. Though he was becoming 
momently more jealous of all those watching eyes because 
he could see how delighted they were, he grew surer and 
surer that Fanny was definitely and restrainedly doing the 
whole thing as the boys’ sisters might have done it, if 
their sisters had been as accomplished as she. His heart 
warmed to her as it had never warmed before. After all, 


RED AND BLACK 


334 

Cary said to himself, this war had done something splendid 
to Fanny Fitch as well as to everybody else. She wasn’t 
a vampire, she was a good sport, and she was playing up, 
playing the game, with the very best that was in her> 
just as R. M. B. had said. And Cary was glad; he was 
gladder than he had ever been about anything. 

The moment she had finally left the stage, and the 
sleight-of-hand man who was the other member of the 
little company had secured the reluctant attention of the 
audience, loth to let Fanny go, Cary wormed his way to 
one side and out of the torch-light into the clear darkness 
now fully fallen. He went around behind the screen, and 
found a slim figure in scarlet and black sitting with violin- 
ist and concertinist upon a plank, placed across two boxes. 
An older woman with a plain face and fine eyes looked up 
at Cary and shook her head at him with a warning smile. 
Evidently she was in charge, and very much in charge, 
of this girl who was travelling about France with men 
performers among so many men in uniform. But before 
she could send him away Fanny herself had looked up 
from a letter she was reading by a flash-light the little con- 
certinist was holding for her. 

She sprang up with a smothered exclamation of joy 
and came to him. The older woman rose also and followed 
her. Fanny turned to her. 

‘Ht’s an old friend, Mr. Ray — Mrs. Burnett.” She 
made the introduction under her breath, for at the moment 
the audience on the other side of the screen was silent, 
watching a dijSicult trick. ‘"He’s a war correspondent, 
and Fm sure hasn’t long to stay. Please let me talk with 
him, just outside here.” 

So, in a minute, when Cary had disarmed the duenna 
with his frank and friendly smile, he led Fanny a stone’s- 


A SCARLET FEATHER 335 

throw away, just out of the flare of the torches, and looked 
down into her face. 

“Well,” he said, “here we are! And you’re playing 
the game, for all that’s in it. I’m pleased as Punch that 
you’ve come along. Tell me all about it, quick. I’ve 
got to be back in the car that brought me in half an hour, 
not to delay Colonel Brooks.” 

“Then there isn’t time to tell you all about it,” Fanny 
answered, “and there’s nothing to tell, either, except 
what you see. I am very happy to be of use — as I think 
I am.” 

“I should say you were. I’ve been watching you for a 
full half-hour, and I never saw a jollier stunt put over. 
In that red and black you beat anything in pink and 
white I ever saw — to speak figuratively. You see — I’ve 
only seen you in pink and white, before!” 

Fanny laughed. “And I’ve never before seen you in 
olive-drab. You’re perfectly stunning, of course. How 
did you know I was here — or didn’t you know?” 

“The chaplain of the th told me,” Cary explained, 

watching her. 

“Oh, yes!” Fanny’s eyes met his straightforwardly. 
She was made up for the stage but he didn’t mind that, 
because he knew it had to be. “It was so strange to see 
him, in uniform. He’s looking every inch a soldier, isn’t 
he ? — even though he’s not one.” 

“I’m not so sure he isn’t. Yes, he’s great — and you’re 
greater! It’s all in the nature of things that he should 
come over and do his bit, but you could hardly have been 
expected to do yours.” 

“Why not? Just because I’ve always been a frivolous 
thing, is that any reason why I shouldn’t sober down now 
and be useful?” 


RED AND BLACK 


336 

Cary smiled. “You don’t look exactly sobered down, 
you know,” he told her, glancing from the dashing scarlet 
feather in the little cap set at an angle on her blonde head, 
to the high-heeled scarlet slippers on her pretty feet. 

“Oh, but I am. Fm giving myself more seriously to 
being a little fool than I ever did to trying to seem wise.” 

“And in doing it, you’re wisest of all!” Cary exulted. 
“Fanny — Fve something to tell you. I wouldn’t have 
been sure once, whether it was something that would give 
you pleasure to hear or not, but — ^yes — Fm fairly sure 
now. You knew — you must have known, what I used to 
be, though you didn’t see much of me till that was pretty 
well over. I want you to know that — it’s all over now, 
Fve had every sort of test, as you may imagine, since I 
left Jane — and Mr. Black, and Doctor Burns — the people 
who stood by me when I was down — and I haven’t given 
in once. Perhaps I will give in, some day, but I don’t 
think it. You see — I can’t disappoint them. And — Fd 
like to think — you care too whether — I make good.” 

A great burst of applause came from the ranks upon 
the grass, followed by a roar of laughter. Cary drew 
Fanny a step or two farther away, though they two were 
already in deep shadow, made the deeper by contrast with 
the circle of radiance cast by the torches. 

“Of course, I care,” she answered, and he strained his 
eyes in the darkness in the effort to see her face. “Cary, 
I want you to know that — ever so many things look differ- 
ent to me, over here. I — perhaps you won’t believe it, 
but it’s true — absolutely true — that when I face an audi- 
ence like that one out there I feel like — alm.ost like — 
a mother to those boys. And I just want to — be good 
to them — and help them forget the hard things they’ve 
seen, for a little while.” 


A SCARLET FEATHER 337 

He could have laughed aloud, at the idea of ever hearing 
anything like this from the lips of Fanny Fitch. Yet, 
somehow, he could not doubt that there was truth in the 
astonishing words, and it made him very happy to hear 
them. There had been that in her performance, as he had 
observed, which gave strong colour to this point of view. 
Certainly, the experience of being close to the heart of the 
great struggle was doing strange things to everybody. 
Why should it not have worked this miracle with her? 

“Fanny — ” he felt for her hand, and took it in both 
his, while he stooped lower to speak into her face, — “do 
you know that you and I are a lot alike? It’s supposed 
to be that people who are alike should steer clear of each 
other, but Fm not so sure. You and I are always keyed 
up to a pitch of adventure — ^we like it, it’s the breath of 
life to us. I can understand it in you — ^you can, in me. 
Why shouldn’t we go after it — ^together? Why couldn’t 
we make a wonderful thing of our lives, doing things to- 
gether? Why, if I could have made an airman, for in- 
stance — as I’d have liked mightily to do if I hadn’t been 
a newspaper man and had my job cut out for me — I can 
imagine your being ready to go up with me and take every 
chance with me — you could be just that sort of a good 
fellow. And even on the every-day, plain ground — why, 
dear — if you cared ” 

Fanny was silent for a minute, and he could see that 
she was looking away from him, toward the boys on the 
grass, and the stage, and the torches. 

“I want to go on doing this, while the war lasts,” she 
said, “as long as I can hold out.” 

“Of course you do. And I want to go on with my job. 
We’re both taking chances. I don’t suppose a shot will 
get you — but — one might get me.” 


RED AND BLACK 


338 

‘'It might get me, too. Tm going next to some of the 
hospitals, and they are shelled sometimes, aren’t they?’^ 

“Sure thing. And the funny thing is, I shouldn’t want 
you not to go, any more than you’d want to keep me in 
safe places. Isn’t that true?” 

“Yes!” She whispered it. 

“Then,” he argued triumphantly, “doesn’t that prove 
that we’re fit mates? And if we just knew that we be- 
longed to each other, wouldn’t that — oh, don’t mind my 
saying it that way — ^wouldn’t that put a lot more punch 
into our work?” 

“It might.” 

He well remembered that delicious little laugh of hers; 
it had never delighted him more than it did now. 

“Not that yours needs any more punch,” he went on, 
rather deliriously, in his joy. It certainly did give zest 
to a man’s wooing to know that a few paces away were 
several hundred rivals in admiration of his choice. Not 
one of those fellows but would have given his eyes to be 
standing back here in the shadow with the girl of the 
scarlet feather! “Punch! I should say so. How you 
did put it over! And all the while I wanted to jump up 
and yell — ‘ Keep your distance — she’s mine .'’ ” 

“Oh — but you weren’t as sure as that!” Fanny tried 
to withdraw her hand. 

But Cary held it fast. “No, I wasn’t sure, not by a 
darned sight. I’m not sure yet — except of one thing. 
And that’s if you send me away to-night not sure I’ll go 
to pieces with unhappiness and my work ’ll run a fair 
chance of going to pieces too. Heaven knows when I’ll 
see you again, with the scrap getting hotter all the time. 
I don’t mean to play on the pathetic, but — ^well — ^you 
know as well as I do that this is war-time — and I’m green 


A SCARLET FEATHER 


339 

with jealousy of every doughboy who'll see you from now 
on ” 

He hardly knew what he was saying now. The violin- 
ist had begun to play again. The boys on the grass had 
fallen silent. The torches flared and fell and flared again 
in the light breeze which had suddenly sprung up. In a 
minute more he must go; he must run no risk- of making 
the car-load of officers wait for him. 

Fanny lifted her face and spoke to him in a whisper. 
^‘Cary, will you promise me — that you'll never — go back 
to the old — ways?" 

‘‘Oh, I'd like to promise you!" he whispered back eag- 
erly. “I want to. That will make it surer than sure — 
if I can promise you. I do promise you — on my honour — 
and before — God." 

They stood a moment in silence again, then Cary flung 
his arms around her and felt hers come about his neck. 

“I want to promise you something, too," her voice 
breathed in his ear. “I'll never, never face an audience 
like this without — remembering that you might be in it. 
And I'll play — as you would like me to. Didn’t I — to- 
night — without knowing?" 

“Oh, my dear!" How could she have known, and 
given him what he wanted most;? “Yes, you did — bless 
you! And I'll trust you, as you'll trust me. Oh, I 
didn't know how much I loved you, till you said that. 
Fanny — we were meant for each other — I know we were!" 

Every man has said it, and Cary was as sure as they. 
Perhaps he was right — as right as they. Anyhow, as he 
went away, he was gloriously happy in the thought that 
though those hundreds on the grass might thrill with 
pleasure as the girl with the scarlet feather came out to 
sing them her farewell song, not one of them all could knf>w 


RED AND BLACK 


340 

as he did, that behind the enchanting gayety beat a real 
heart, one that belonged only to a certain war correspond- 
ent, already many miles away! Surely, if she could trust 
him, he could trust her, and mutual trust, as all the world 
knows, is the essential basis for every human relation 
worth having. On this basis, then, was this new relation 
established; and the augury for the future was one on 
which to count with hope — even with confidence. 


CHAPTER XX 

A HAPPY WARRIOR 

T he Field Hospital in which Jane was at work was 
now seeing its busiest days. A steady stream of 
wounded men poured into it, day and night, frequently 
augmented after a serious engagement at the Front by such 
a torrent of extra cases that every resource was heavily 
overtaxed. Surgeons and nurses worked to the limit and 
beyond it; they kept on long after they should have been 
released. In J ane’s whole experience in this place no doctor 
or nurse ever gave up and was sent to the rear until actual- 
ly forced to do so, by pure physical inability longer to con- 
tinue. It was amazing how endurance held out, when 
the need was great, by sheer force of nerve and will. 
Yet the strain told, and it showed more and more in 
the worn faces of those upon whom the responsibility fell 
heaviest. 

At a time when the situation was most trying, and the 
whole hospital force was exhausting itself with effort to 
cover the demand, a visitor appeared upon the scene who 
changed the face of things in an hour. He was a surgeon 
from a famous Base Hospital, himself distinguished both 
in America, from which he came, and in France, where 
he had been long serving far in advance of most of his 
countrymen. He had chosen to spend a brief leave from 
his work in visiting various Field Hospitals and Casualty 
Clearing Stations, and on account of his reputation for 
341 


342 RED AND BLACK 

remarkable success in his own branch of regional surgery 
his visits had been welcomed and made the most of by his 
colleagues in the profession. 

Arriving at this particular Field Hospital he found its 
operating rooms choked with cases, its surgeons working 
in mad haste to give each man his chance for life, in spite 
of the rush; its nurses standing by to the point of ex- 
haustion. Their forces had been depleted that very day 
by the sudden and tragic loss of their Chief, who at the 
conclusion of an incredible number of hours of unceasing 
labour at the operating table had dropped quietly at the 
feet of his assistants and been carried out, not to return. 
He was a man beyond middle age, a slender gray-haired 
hero of indomitable will, who had known well enough that 
he was drawing upon borrowed capital but had withheld 
none of it on that account. His removal from the head 
of his forces had had no outer effect upon them except 
to make them redouble their efforts to fill the gap; but not 
a man nor woman there who was not feeling the weaker 
for the loss. 

It was at this hour that Doctor Leaver, looking in upon 
the shambles that the operating room had become, and 
recognizing the tremendous need, a need greater than he 
had left behind, took off his coat, put on the smeared 
gown in which Doctor Burnside had fallen at his post — 
there was not a clean one to be had in the depleted supply 
room — and went quietly to work. He waited for no 
authority from anywhere; he was needed for hurt and 
dying men, and there was no time to lose. Compara- 
tively fresh because of his brief vacation from his own 
work, experienced beyond any of the men who had been the 
Chiefs associates, he assumed the control as naturally as 
they gave it to him. 


A HAPPY WARRIOR 


343 

"By George! I never saw anything like this!” burst 
smotheredly from the lips of one of the younger surgeons, 
as he received certain supplies from Jane’s hands. "Talk 
about rapid work! — ^Why, the man’s lightning itself. 
He’s speeded us all up, though we thought we were making 
a record before. If anybody’d told me this morning that 
before night I’d be fetching and carrying for Leaver of 
Baltimore, I’d have told him no such luck. Why, say — 
I thought I was tired ! I’m fresh as a mule, as long as he 
stands there.” 

Doctor Leaver remained for five days, until a man to 
take the dead Chief’s place could be found. During that 
period he stopped work only to snatch a few hours’ rest 
when he could best be spared — if such intervals ever came. 
His tall, sinewy figure and lean, aquiline face became the 
most vitally inspiring sight in the whole place, the eyes of 
surgeons, nurses, and patients resting with confidence upon 
this skilful quiet man who did such marvellous things with 
such assured ease. 

"Why,” one nurse declared to Jane, as the two made 
ready trays of instruments just from the sterilizer, "it 
seems as if he had only to look at a case that’s almost 
gone to have it revive. I’ve got so that I shall expect to 
see the dead sit up, pretty soon, if he tells them to. That 
red-headed boy over there — I wouldn’t have said he had 
one chance in a million to recover from shock, two hours 
ago, when he came in. And now look at him — smiling 
at everybody who comes near him!” 

"Yes, Doctor Leaver is wonderful,” Jane agreed, "But 
remember who he is — one of the very most famous Ameri- 
can surgeons we have over here. And modern surgery 
does do miracles — in the right hands. I never cease to 
wonder at it.'’ 


RED AND BLACK 


344 

One nurse was like another to the busy chief surgeon, or 
so it seemed — they couldn’t be sure that he would ever 
know any of them again if he saw them after this was over. 
But on the fourth day of his stay, as somebody called 
sharply — “MissRay!” — Jane noted that he looked sudden- 
ly over at her with that quick, penetrating glance of his 
which was keeping everybody on the jump. That same 
evening, during the first lull — or what might be called 
that — ^which had occurred for hours on end, he came to 
her. 

“I have a message for you. Miss Ray,” he said, “if you 
are the Miss Ray who comes from the same part of the 
States as a young man named Enos Dyer.” 

“Oh, yes. Doctor Leaver.” Jane looked up eagerly. 

‘‘Come out here, please. Where we can talk a minute,” 
and the tall surgeon led her across the ward to an open 
door. He paused beside her in this doorway, drawing in 
deeply the cool damp air which poured in from outside, for 
the night like so many nights in France was wet. He 
passed his hand across his brow, smoothing back the dark, 
straight hair, moist with his unceasing labours. 

“My word, but that feels good!” he said. “There are 
places in the world still, that don’t smell of carbolic and 
ether.” And he smiled at Jane, who smiled back. “How 
many hours’ sleep have you had in the last forty-eight?” 
he questioned suddenly, eyeing understanding^ the violet 
shadows beneath her eyes. 

“As many as you — or more — Doctor Leaver,” she an- 
swered lightly. “ I’ve learned to do without, now — as you 
did, long ago.” 

“Nobody ever learns to do without. Get some to- 
night, please, without fail.” 

“You sound like a surgeon I know back home,” she 


A HAPPY WARRIOR 345 

said. She knew he would welcome a bit of relaxation from 
discipline during this brief interval of rest. 

“Who? Red Pepper Burns?” 

“Indeed, yes! How could you know?” she asked, 
though less surprised than she might have been if she had 
not already had many strange encounters, here in this 
land of strangers. 

“He’s the best friend I have in the world — as he is that 
of plenty of other people. If you know him. Miss Ray, 
you understand that my heart warms at the very mention 
of him.” 

She nodded. “You knew how he wanted to come 
over?” 

“Yes! Hard luck. I wanted him badly with me. But 
he’s represented over here. Miss Ray, in the best way a 
man can be, short of actual personal service. I learned 
from him a method of overcoming traumatic shock which 
is more effective than any I’ve found in use here. It’s 
about our most difficult problem, you know. I scouted 
Burns’ theory in the beginning, but I’ve had a great chance 
to try it out over here, and it certainly does save some 
pretty desperate cases. If I can ever get a minute to write 
I’ll tell him a few things that will make him very happy.’. 

“I am so glad,” she said — and looked it. 

“Now for my message. Back at Base I had a case that 
interested me mightily, not so much pathologically as 
psychologically. This boy Dyer was under my hands for 
a number of weeks — he’s back at the Front now — and a 
more naive, engaging youngster from the back country I 
never knew. He had us all interested in him, he was so 
crazy to be under fire again. You had him here, I believe, 
on his way out.” 

“Yes, Doctor. I shall always remember him.” 


346 RED AND BLACK 

“And he, you, evidently. A number of weeks ago he 
heard me say that I intended to take this trip, and he 
figured it out that I might meet you. So he sent you 
this message, with instructions to me to deliver it somehow 
or answer to him.” He smiled over the recollection as he 
drew out a small paper. “Dyer could get away with 
more impudence — or what would be called that from any- 
body else — ^than any boy I ever saw. But it wasn’t really 
that — it was his beautiful faith that everybody was on his 
side, including the Almighty. He had an unshakeable 
and touching belief that God would see him through 
everything and permit him to render some big service 
before he was through. And since he hadn’t had his 
chance to do that yet, it followed as the night the day 
that he must get back to the Front and do it. I admit 
I came to feel much the same way about him myself. 
And when he gave me this message I understood that it 
must be delivered at any cost. So — ^without any cost at 
all-^here it is.” 

Jane received the folded paper with a curious sense of 
its importance, though it came from the most obscure 
young private in the A. E. F. With a word of apology 
she opened it, feeling that Doctor Leaver would like to 
know something of its contents, if they were communi- 
cable, After a moment during which she struggled with 
and conquered a big lump in her throat, she handed it to 
him. He read it with a moved face, and gave it back with 
the comment: 

“That’s great — that’s simply great! Thank you for 
letting me see.” 

The message was written in a cramped, boyishly un- 
certain hand, but there was nothing uncertain about the 
wording of it: 


A HAPPY WARRIOR 


347 


Miss Ray, 

Dear Friend: 

This is to tell you that it took longer than I expected to get me 
fixed up again but I am all O. K. now and never better and I am 
off for the place where things is doing. You know from what I 
said that I think there is something for me to do that nobody 
else could and I am going to do it if God lets me. Not that I 
think I am a Daniel but there sure is lions and just now they seem 
to be roaring pretty loud and I can’t get there too soon. I want 
to ask you to pray for me not that I won’t be afraid for I am not 
afraid but that I’ll be let to do something worth coming over here 
for. The preacher Mr. Black said that God always hears if we 
have anything to say to Him and I think He would hear you 
speshally — because anybody would. This leaves me well and 
hoping you are the same. Your friend, 

Private Enos E>yer. 

suppose you have no idea where he is now/’ Jane 
said, as she carefully put away the paper. 

“Yes, I have an idea.” The surgeon was looking off 
now into the night outside. Gusts of wind blew the rain 
into his face, but he seemed to welcome its refreshing touch. 
“I had a word with a young artilleryman just now on 
whom I operated yesterday for a smashed elbow joint. 
He doesn’t mind that in the least, but the thing he does 
mind is that he’s sure his ‘buddy,’ as he calls him, ‘Enie 

Dyer,’ was in that battalion of the nth Division that 

has just been wiped out. It had taken the objective it 
was sent for, and this boy has had to help shell the 
position where Dyer would have been if the battalion 
hadn’t been sacrificed. His idea is that it was a perhaps 
inevitable sacrifice, but the thought that he might have 
been pouring lead and steel in on his friend, still alive and 
hiding in a shell-hole, has got on his nerves till he’s all in 
pieces. He’s a giant physically, but Dyer is twice his size, 
nevertheless.” 


RED AND BLACK 


348 

“Fll find him,” said Jane. She felt suddenly weak with 
dread. She had caught rumours before now of the battalion 
which had not been heard from and which seemed to have 
vanished from the earth, but she had no idea that any one 
in whom she was especially interested had been among 
that ill-fated number. She had known young Dyer but 
a few days, yet he had made upon her one of the most 
deeply disturbing impressions of her experience. His own 
personality, reinforced by her knowledge that he owed 
this simple trust of his to Robert Black, had combined to 
make the thought of him a poignant one. As she went 
back to her work she realized that Dyer was not to 
be out of her mind until the question of his whereabouts 
was settled — if it could be settled. 

And meanwhile — what was it that he had bade her do 
for him ? 

It was three days later that the rumour reached the 
Hospital that the battalion which had been supposed to 
be wiped out had been heard from. Two runners had 
come through the enemy’s lines, it was said, and had 
brought word that what was left of the four companies 
which formed the battalion was under constant barrage 
fire from the guns of its own side. The barrage had been 
stopped, rescue was on its way; the daring men who had 
brought the word would shortly be here to be fixed up — 
they had been completely exhausted when they arrived. 

The artilleryman sat up in bed. He waved his good 
right arm and shouted, before anybody could restrain 
him: 

*T’ll bet Enie Dyer’s one of ’em! I’ll bet he’s one of 
’em! Darn his hide, he’d get through hell itself if he 
started to. He’d never know when he was beat — he never 


A HAPPY WARRIOR 


349 

did. He wouldn’t know it if a seventy-five hit him — 
he’d tell it he had to be gettin’ along where he was goin’, 
and he’d pull it out and leave it layin’ where ’twas! I 
vum ” 

A burst of joyous laughter from all down the ward 
greeted this triumph of the imagination. Then Jane laid 
him gently down upon his back again — he had other in- 
juries than the smashed elbow joint, and sitting up 
wouldn’t do for him yet. In his ear she whispered, “I 
think it’s Enie too, somehow. But we mustn’t be too 
sure yet. Just try to wait quietly.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He owned her supremacy as they all 
did. But for the next twenty-four hours he hardly 
rested and never slept. Jane shared his vigil, while re- 
ports continued to arrive, some adding to their confidence, 
others taking it away. Finally, they knew that it was 
all true and the lost was found — ^what there was left of it. 

And then came Enos Dyer, and the Polish boy who had 
been his companion. Five days without food before start- 
ing, eight hours on the trip, exhausted but game, they 
were brought back to the Field Hospital for the rest that 
was imperative, and the treatment of minor injuries. 
That night Jane sat beside Dyer’s bed and listened to his 
account, because he was too happy to be suppressed until 
he had told her the outlines. She looked at his thin, 
exalted face, and saw the lines and hollows that hunger 
and fatigue had brought there, but saw still more clearly 
the triumph of spirit over body. She had managed that 
he should lie in a bed next his big friend, and between the 
reunited pair she felt like a happy warrior herself. 

“Why, it was the thing, to start in the day time,” 
insisted Enos, in reply to big Johnny’s comment on the 
foolhardiness of this choice. “All the runners that tried 


RED AND BLACK 


3 SO 

It before in the night got killed or wounded, and somebody’d 
got to try the thing a different way. I figgered out 
that in the day time when there ain’t any scrap on, the 
enemy’s always half asleep, they’re so sure they can see 
everything that’s goin’ on. Nights everybody on both 
sides is keyed up like jack-rabbits, expectin’ trouble. 
But day times — why they’s nothin’ to it — if they don’t 
happen to see you.” 

Johnny chuckled: ‘'No, if they don’t!” 

“You see,” Enos went on, “we made things safe by 
leavin’ behind our helmets and gas masks and rifles ” 

“Leavin’ ’em behind! Why, you’d need ’em.” 

“Not much we didn’t. Tin hats hit on stones and ring 
out, when you’re crawlin’, and rifles and masks get in your 
way. One officer stopped us, though, and told us to go 
back and get ’em. I didn’t want to, so I went back to the 
Major and told him so. He said, ‘Don’t you want ’em?’ 
And I said, ‘No, sir, we don’t,’ and he laughed and said, 
‘All right, go as you like.’ He was the same that told me 
when I and Stanislaus asked to go that ‘ff we got through 

we was to ’ ‘7/ we get through — — ’ I says to him — 

‘we’re gofn’ to get through! If God could take care of 
Daniel in that lions’ den, I guess He can of us.’ He looked 
at me a minute, and then he says; ‘You’ll make it.’” 
Enos laughed gleefully. “Nothin’ like standin’ up to 
an officer,” he said, by way of throwing a side-light on 
the affair. Jane thought of Doctor Leaver, and wished 
he had not gone back to his Base Hospital, and could hear. 

“Well, that’s about all there was to it. — Gee, but this 
pillow does feel good under a fellow’s head! — ^We crawled 
down the hill, and across the valley, and we crossed a 
road three times, right under them Fritzies’ noses, and 
they never see us. Quite a lot of times I thought they^ 


A HAPPY WARRIOR 351 

sure had seen us, and was comm’ straight for us, but we 
laid low, and every time they’d turn off before they got 

to us, just as if ” his eyes met Jane’s and looked 

straight into them — “a hand was holdin’ back the lions. 
I knew then just as sure that we’d get through. We 
crossed three wire entanglements, and two German 
trenches, and we run right onto a sniper’s post, only the 
sniper wasn’t there — gone off for water or somethin’, not 
thinkin’ there was anythin’ to snipe in broad daylight. 
About dark it begun to rain — and it got black as a pocketl 
We was soaked through. But we kep’ a-comin’, and 
quite awhile after dark we got near our own lines.” 

He paused and drew a long breath. Jane laid an ex- 
ploring finger on his pulse, but it was not unduly excited 
or more weak than was safe. Johnny, propping himself 
upon his uninjured elbow, had to be made to lie down 
again. 

“Gee!” muttered the artilleryman, “that was about 
the worst of all. They keep an awful lookout, our fellows 
do. Wonder they didn’t shoot you.” 

“We thought of that,” admitted Enos mildly, “so we 
decided to keep a talkin’ as we come near, so they could 
hear we was English-speakin’. So we did. The outpost 
heard us and challenged us, and we told our story. They 
was bound to make sure we wasn’t spies, so they kep’ 
askin’ us questions. By and by they called the cor- 
poral of the guard, and after he’d asked us forty-’leven 
more questions he took us back to Regimental Head- 
quarters, and there was some officers there that I’d see 
before. I was surprised that they remembered me, but 
they did.” — ^Jane was not surprised to hear this. — “And 
then, well, there wasn’t anything too good for us. They 
had some chow heated up for us, and they told us we could 


RED AND BLACK 


352 

have the best there was to sleep on — and we did — only 
the best there was was the floor,” he explained with a 
laugh. ‘‘This bed certainly feels good,” he added. 

That was his whole story of an exploit which had saved 
a battalion. Seven hundred men had gone forth to take 
the objective, two hundred and twenty-seven of them had 
been able to walk out, when the rescue came. The 
chances of a runner getting through the enemy lines by 
which the men were surrounded had been desperate ones, 
and Dyer had taken them and had come through without a 
hair of his head having been touched. 

He turned to Jane, lowering his voice. “Did you ever 
get my letter I sent you?” he asked. 

“Yes, Enos. Doctor Leaver brought it to me.” 

“I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I knew you was 
prayin’ for me to get my chance, or I wouldn’t have got 
it so easy.” 

Jane’s eyes fell before his. 

“You did do what I asked, didn’t you?” he insisted, con- 
fidently. 

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t pray for that, 
Enos. All I could think of was that you might come 
through safely.” 

“And that was what you prayed for?” 

She nodded. 

“Why, that wasn’t the big thing!” he cried, under his 
breath. “Except, of course — if us fellows didn’t get 
through the rest of ’em wouldn’t. Oh, yes, of course, 
that was what you did have to pray for, and I’m glad 
you did. It’s wonderful how it works out, things like 
that!” 

She stole away presently, forbidding either of the two 
friends to exchange any further talk that night. _ The 


A HAPPY WARRIOR 353 

place was a Httle quieter to-night, though by to-morrow 
the wounded from the rescued battalion would be brought 
in and everything would speed up again. She went out- 
side the hospital and found a sheltered corner where in the 
darkness she could be alone — until somebody should come 
by. The rain had stopped, the clouds had broken away; 
a myriad stars filled the sky. 

After a time she took from her pocket her pen and a 
letter blank, and coming around where she could get a 
faint light from a window upon her paper slowly wrote 
these words, afterwards folding and sealing the letter and 
addressing it. 

I know, at last, that you are right. I don’t understand it yet— 
but I believe it. Somebody does hear — and it is possible to speak 
to Him. I have learned the way through a boy from the “hill” 
where we went that last Sunday afternoon. He says you taught 
him — and now he has taught me. You were right when you 
said that I would find it all around me here. I have, but it took 
this dear, wise boy to make it real to me — as you made it real 
to him. So — it has come through you after all, and I am very, 
very glad of that. 

God keep you safe, Robert Black, — I pray for it on my knees. 

Jane. 

It was two days afterward that a despatch reached her 
from Dr. John Leaver, back at his Base Hospital, near 
Paris. 

Operated to-day Chaplain Black ^nth Regiment nth 

Division, severe shrapnel wounds shoulder and thigh. Doing well. 

Leaver. 


CHAPTER XXI 

A PEAL OF BELLS 

B y the time that a certain note of a few lines, written 
outside a Field Hospital window in France, had 
reached a certain Base Hospital, many miles away, Robert 
Black was able to open his own mail, for a fortnight had 
gone by. He was so fortunate as to have two other letters 
in this mail, a happening which of itself would have 
made the rainy day much less dismal. But to find this 
particular handwriting upon the third envelope was 
enough to flood the ward with light — for him, though to 
some others, near him, who had had no letters, it re- 
mained a sombre place, as before. 

He kept this third letter unopened till the morning 
dressings were over, the carts of surgical supplies had 
ceased to move through the ward, and the surgeons and 
nurses had left behind them patients soothed and made 
comfortable and ready for the late morning nap which fol- 
lowed naturally upon the pain and fatigue of the dressings. 
Then, when his neighbours in the beds on either side were 
no longer observant. Black drew out the single sheet, feeling 
an instant sense of disappointment that the lines were so 
few. Then — he read them, and his regret was changed 
in an instant to a joy so profound that he could only lie 
drawing deep breaths of emotion, as he stared out of a 
near-by window at tossing tree tops dripping with rain^ 


3S4 


A PEAL OF BELLS 355 

against the sky of lead. The sky for him, had opened, 
and let through a sea of glory. 

Again and again, after a little, his eager eyes re-read the 
words, so few, yet so full of meaning. Among them cer- 
tain lines stood out: 


I know, at last, that you are right. I don't understand it 
yet — but I believe it. Somebody does hear — and it is possible 

to speak to Him You were right when you said that I would 

find it all around me here It took this dear, wise boy to 

make it real to me — as you made it real to him So — it has 

come through you, after all God keep you safe, Robert 

Black — I pray for it on my knees. 

Jane. 

It was well for him that this stimulus came when it did, 
for within twenty-four hours arrived another message of 
the sort which is not good for convalescents. Cary Ray 
sent a scrawl of a letter from some post upon the Front, 
which was three weeks in getting through, so that the news 
it contained was already old. Black read it, and then 
turned upon his pillow and hid his face in his arm. When 
his fellow patients saw that face again, though it was com- 
posed, and the Chaplain's manner was as they had known 
it all along, not a man but understood that he had had a 
heavy blow. By and by he asked for his writing tablet 
and pen, and they saw him slowly write a short letter. 
These were the words he wrote: 

My dear Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart: 

I wish that this word I send you might be the first to reach you, 
that you might receive the news of your boy from the hand of 
a friend. But whether the official word comes first or not, you 
will be glad to have me tell you all I know — ^which comes to me 
through Caiy Ray, and which he says has been absolutely verified. 


RED AND BLACK 


356 

Tom’s division was one sent forward to replace the remnant 
of two British and French divisions which had been long in the 
field. The men went into position to hold the line under the 
hottest possible machine-gun fire. Tom’s battalion lost all its 
officers except himself and a second lieutenant, and these two 
were forced to take command. They succeeded in holding the 
position for many hours and until relief came, thus saving the day 
in that sector, and causing the final retirement of the enemy. 
The second lieutenant, Fisher, himself severely wounded, told 
Cary Ray that “Lockhart was a regular bull-dog for hanging on, 
nothing could make him turn back. His men would go anywhere 
he told them to, for he always went with them — and went first.” 
When he fell it was under a rain of gun-fire, and there could not 
have been an instant’s survival. 

Though you have prayed many prayers for your boy, and they 
have been answered differently from the way in which you would 
have had them, I believe your faith in God is no less than before. 
When Tom and his father meet again, some day, and talk it over, 
it will all be clear to that father why his boy went home ahead 
of him. But Tom knows — nozv; I’m very sure of that. 

So, dear friends, you have a glorious memory to comfort you. 
The gold star you will wear will be the highest honour that can 
come to you. Nothing that Tom could have accomplished in a 
long life of effort could so crown that life with imperishable 
beauty, or so make it immortal. I rejoice with you, for the lad 
Was my dear friend, and I can never forget him. 

Faithfully yours, 

Robert Black. 

Late that night, when all was quiet in the ward, he wrote 
this same news to Jane. But at the end of his letter came 
other words, of such joy and thanksgiving as a man can 
write only when his heart is very full. 

What you tell me of yourself goes to my deepest heart, as you 
must well know. I knew it would come — it had to come. What 
it means to me I can tell you only when I see you, face to face. 
The thought of that hour shakes me through and through. 


A PEAL OF BELLS 


357 


On the nth of November, at half after ten in the morn- 
ing, Jane was in one of the larger towns which had been 
swept by devastating fires at one time or another through- 
out the entire period of the war. She had been sent with 
a certain Brigadier General who had been under her care 
at the Field Hospital, and who had obtained for her a 
short leave that she might accompany him and see for 
herself something of this famous region. At the time 
of their arrival shells had again unexpectedly begun pour- 
ing in upon the town, though the rumour of the coming 
armistice was persistent, and even the hour was given. 

can’t let you go any nearer,” General Lewiston said 
to Jane, as his car approached the town, and halted at his 
order, “much as I want you to be there when the guns 
cease firing. They’re evidently going to keep it as hot 
here as they know how, up to the very last minute.” 

“Oh, but you must let me stay,” Jane begged. “I’m 
not in the least afraid, and I’d give all I possess^o be ex- 
actly there, when the hour comes.” 

“I’ll leave you here, in care of Lieutenant Ferguson, and 
send back for you when it’s over,” the General offered. 

“Please, take me in with you. I’ve been under fire, 
before. We were bombed three times in hospital, you 
know.” 

“Yes, but this is different, Miss Ray. I’m responsible 
for you now.” 

“Not a bit. General. It’s my responsibility, if I ask 
It — as I do.” 

He couldn’t resist her, or that sweet sturdiness of hers 
which made her seem unlike the women for whom a man 
had to be “responsible.” So he bade his chauffeur drive 
on. Thus it came about that Jane had her wish and was 
actually in this most noteworthy of French towns when, 


RED AND BLACK 


3S8 

at the close of that last hour of roaring guns and bursting 
shells, it all came to an end, as one graphic account put it, 
“as though God Himself had dropped a wet blanket 
over the crackling flames of hell.” 

So, after that first breathless stillness which succeeded 
upon the din, Jane heard that which she could never 
afterward forget — nor could any other who heard it. From 
the high tower which had come through scatheless above 
the otherwise ruined cathedral, rang out a great peal of 
bells. The cathedral doors were opened, and hundreds of 
soldiers surged in. Jane saw them go, and called General 
Lewiston’s attention. 

“Mayn’t we follow?” she urged, and the officer nodded. 
They got out of the car and crossed the space and went in 
at the great battered doors in the roofless walls which still 
stood to protect the sacred enclosure. As they went in 
they heard the notes of “Praise God from whom all 
blessings flow,” break from a young tenor in the very 
centre of tKe crowd, and heard it taken up and grow and 
swell till it seemed to lift above the broken walls to the 
very sky. And then they saw the wonderful thing 
which followed. If, before this hour, Jane by her own 
experience had not been brought to her knees, surely she 
must have fallen upon them now — as she did, with the 
General beside her on one side and the Lieutenant on the 
other, both with bared heads. For all those men be- 
fore her, British and French and Mohammedan and 
Jew, had now dropped to their knees, and led by an 
unknown man with a Red Triangle on his sleeve who 
had lifted his arms to them as a signal were devoutly 
saying together the words of the Lord’s Prayer. Such a 
deep, whole-hearted sound it was which came from all 
those brawny throats as Jane had never heard before. 


A PEAL OF BELLS 359 

She had heard men cheer — she had heard them sing — 
she had never heard men pray together, regardless of sect 
or creed, as she heard them now. And suddenly she 
realized what she had never understood before, that it is 
not one man here or there who believes that it is of use to 
say “Our Father,” but that it is the great, all but universal 
cry from every heart in time of stress. The armistice was 
signed, the guns had ceased — it was the first deep instinct 
of these men of every creed to speak their gratitude to 
high Heaven. 

There was singing again then — glorious singing of na- 
tional anthems, British and French and American. 
Jane’s voice joined the General’s and the Lieutenant’s 
and the three looked at one another. The General’s eyes 
were wet, and the Lieutenant’s lips were trembling, while 
Jane frankly wiped the streaming tears away as she smiled 
into the two faces, which smiled understandingly back. 
And presently they were out and away again, and the 
General was saying to Jane, “I’m glad you had your way. 
Miss Ray, since you didn’t get hurt, for you’ve seen to-day 
what must almost have paid you for all you have spent 
since you came over.” 

“I’m paid a thousand times,” she answered, and so she 
felt about it. 

Things happened rapidly now. There was plenty of 
work still for the hospitals, but it was of a different sort. 
No longer did the ambulances bring to Jane the freshly 
wounded. She was sent back to a Base Hospital, where 
were the cases which needed long care before they could 
be discharged. She had had more than one letter from 
Robert Black urging her to keep in close touch with him, 
before the one came which said that he was soon to be sent 
home. He asked if it would be possible for her to get 


RED AND BLACK 


360 

leave and come to London, where the final days of his 
convalescence were to be spent. He was walking about 
now, he said, and — ^what it would be to walk down certain 
streets with her! He added other statements calculated 
to have their effect upon her, if only to make her under- 
stand how very much he wanted to see her. 

It was not easy to bring about, but at length she ob- 
tained a four days’ leave, and through the influence of 
Doctor Leaver secured the difficult permission to cross 
the Channel on one of the crowded boats. An early 
December night saw her making the crossing, the wind 
and spray stinging her face into brilliant colour, her big 
coat-collar turned well up about her throat, her eyes set 
straight ahead toward the English coast. It was almost 
sixteen months since she had left England on her way 
to France — sixteen months of the hardest work she had 
ever dreamed of doing — and the happiest. Not one hard 
hour would she take back — not one! 

Dover, and many delayed hours to London, with post- 
war conditions, crowded trains, upset schedules — and 
always the wounded and crippled everywhere, that she 
might not for a minute forget. Then, at last. Charing 
Cross Station, and the lights of the great city, no longer 
obscured because of enemy air-raids. As Jane came 
out upon the street she drew a deep breath of content. 
She had been several times in London, and knew her way 
about. It was not far to the house where she was ex- 
pected, but she had not been met because it had been 
Impossible to know beforehand just when she might get in. 
The days of making careful consultation of railway sched- 
ules and then wiring an expectant friend the hour and 
minute of one’s intended arrival were long gone by — 
and had not yet come again. 


A PEAL OF BELLS 361 

She was keyed to a high pitch of expectation during 
every moment of that walk. She was so near now — so 
near! She was actually imthe same great city. It was 
almost unbelievable, but it was true. There was a 
chance — it couldn’t be more than the millionth part of 
one, but it was a chance — that at any moment she might 
turn a corner and see coming toward her the tall figure 
which she had last seen a year ago in August. How 
would he look.? What would he say? Would he be — 
different? Oh, he must be different! He couldn’t 
have been through it all and not have suffered some 
change. But — she knew as well as she knew anything 
in the world that in the way that mattered most to her 
he would not be different, he would be absolutely the same. 
As for herself, was she not diflperent too? And was she 
not — absolutely the same? Oh, no — oh, no! With the 
development of her experience and the growth of her sacri- 
fice had not the thing within her heart and spirit which 
was his become a thousand times more his? No doubt 
of that. Then — might not that which he had for her 
have been augmented too? The thought was one she had 
to put away from her. Enough, if he could but give her 
so much of his heart as he had given before. That of it- 
self, she thought, would be all that she could bear — to- 
day. 

The old green door with the shining brass knocker she 
so well remembered came into view as she turned into the 
quaint little street not far from Westminster Abbey where 
lived her English friend. On the first of her visits to 
England, in search of rare objects for her shop, she had 
met Miss Stoughton, an Englishwoman in the late thir- 
ties, who had an established reputation as a connoisseur 
and collector of rare antiques. Business dealings with 


RED AND BLACK 


362 

this woman had resulted In a permanent friendship be- 
tween the two. Miss Stoughton was separated from her 
family, all of whom were strongly opposed to her inde- 
pendent establishment in business, a departure from all 
the family traditions of birth and education. She had 
chosen nevertheless to live her own life, and when the 
Great War came to England she had a well developed 
business experience to back her in giving her services to 
her country. At the moment when Jane came to her she 
had just returned to the little house, after a long period of 
absence. 

The green door opened at the first fall of the knocker, 
and the tall Englishwoman herself welcomed Jane with 
hearty hospitality. 

‘‘My dear — this is most awfully jolly — to see you again! 
How well you are looking! A trifle thin, perhaps — and no 
wonder — but such a fine colour! Come in — come in! 
The house is still a bit upset, you know, but you won’t 
mind that.” 

“It doesn’t look upset,” Jane commented, after one 
glance about the little drawing room, where a bright fire 
burned on the diminutive hearth, and a tea-table beside 
it offered refreshment, as if it had been waiting for the 
guest. “It looks just as I remember it — the prettiest 
room I ever saw in England.” 

“Oh, my dear Jane — you are the same extravagant 
admirer of my simple things. But I always appreciated 
your praise of them, for you are not only a connoisseur 
but an artist. And you have put aside all that to do this 
nursing! Do sit down and tell me all about it, while we 
have tea. But first “ she interrupted herself with a ges- 

ture — “let me not fail to give my message — a most im- 
portant message. Morning, noon, and night for three 


A PEAL OF BELLS 363 

days now, have I been besieged by a tall Scotsman in uni- 
form with the cross of a regimental chaplain. He had 
what I may call a determined chin, and the finest pair of 
black eyes I ever saw. It seems he also is expecting you, 
but he fears you may in some way find it difficult to reach 
him, or may lose an instant of time in doing so. He is 
likely to receive orders to sail for the States at any time; 
and I gather from his quite evident anxiety that if he 
should be forced to leave without having seen Miss Ray 
it would be to him a calamity.” 

‘Ht would be one to me too,” Jane answered, with a 
rising colour but a steady meeting of her friend’s quizzical 
look. ‘‘How, please, can I let him know?” 

“A messenger waits within call,” Miss Stoughton as- 
sured her, gaily. “Our war-time telephone service is still 
frightfully crippled, so we provide ourselves with sub- 
stitutes. A small boy is ready to run post-haste through 
the streets of London to carry the news of your arrival to” 
— she picked up a card lying upon a priceless small table 
of an unbelievable antiquity of which Jane had long en- 
vied her the possession, and read the name with dis- 
tinctness — “ *Mr. Robert McPherson Black* A very good 
name, my dear, and one which well fits the man. I 
should judge he is accustomed to have his own way in 
most things, at the same time that an undoubted spirit 
of kindness looks out of that somewhat worn face of his. 
I will despatch the messenger at once. Shall we make an 
appointment for the evening, or are you prepared to see 
your friend within the hour? He will most certainly re- 
turn with the boy who goes for him — if he is not already 
on his way, on the chance of finding you.” 

Jane came close to her hostess, and laid her hands upon 
her shoulders. “Dear Miss Stoughton,” she said, “Fm 


364 


RED AND BLACK 

sure you understand. If military orders weren’t such 
Startling things and likely to arrive sooner than one ex- 
pects them, I would put Mr. Black ofF until evening 
and just have the visit with you I so much want. But 

‘‘I do perfectly well understand,” replied Miss Stough- 
ton, decidedly, “ and I should be most awfully cross with 
you if you put off that very fine man an hour longer than 
necessary. He has two service chevrons and two wound 
stripes on his arm, and he walks with a cane; I should not 
be in the least surprised if within his blouse he wears con- 
cealed some sort of decoration. In any case he deserves 
every consideration. A chaplain with wounds has done 
something besides read the prayer book to his men behind 
the lines.” 

She left the room and sent ofF her messenger. Return- 
ing she led Jane up the short staircase to the tiniest and 
most attractive of English guest rooms. 

“You see, though I am not married nor intend to be,” 
she said, with the smile which made her somewhat plain 
but noteworthy face charming to her guest, “I can quite 
understand that you would like a look in the mirror before 
the Chaplain arrives. You have always reminded me of 
some smooth-winged bird, but the smoothest winged of 
birds will preen itself a good bit, and you shall do the 
same. Then come down, and we’ll be having tea when the 
knocker claps. After that — I have an engagement at 
my work-rooms — oh, yes, indeed I have! There is still 
much to be done for our soldiers and yours, you know.” 

Jane would have been more — or less — than woman if 
she had not welcomed the chance to remove all possible 
traces of her journey before the sounding of that knocker. 
She made haste, but none too much, for Miss Stoughton’s 
predictions were truer than could have been expected of 


A PEAL OF BELLS 365 

one who must walk with a cane. As the last hairpin 
slipped into place the knocker fell, and Jane caught 
one quick breath before she ran to complete the 
freshening of every feather in those ‘‘smooth wings” 
of hers. 

“He’s here, Jane dear,” Miss Stoughton presently 
announced, as she followed her knock into the little guest 
room. “I don’t consider myself at all susceptible to 
bachelor attractions, but I will admit that I like this man’s 
face and his nice manner — and — quite everything about 
him. I’m going to slip out now, and let you come down to 
find him alone.” 

“Oh, please stay and have tea with us first, Miss 
Stoughton — please do!” 

“I am convinced of your sincerity and truthfulness,’* 
replied Miss Stoughton, “in all ordinary matters. I 
should not hesitate to buy from you any rare curio in the 
world on your word of honour alone that it was authentic. 
But when you urge me to stay by my fireside and have 
tea with you and a Scottish-American chaplain whom you 
have not seen for considerably more than a year, I have 
my doubts, my dear, of your good faith. I’ll see that the 
kettle is boiling for you, and you, as you Americans say, 
must ‘do the rest.’” 

Jane laughed, her eyes glowing. “Oh, you’re such a 
friend,” she whispered. “But please don’t stay away 
long. I want you to know Mr. Black — indeed I do. And 
I’m so happy to have your home to meet him in.” 

“My home is yours — and his — while you stay.” And 
Miss Stoughton went away, beaming with kindness — and 
experiencing a touch of envy. What must it be, she 
thought, to look as Jane was looking — so fresh and lovely 
in spite of her years of business life and these months of 


RED AND BLACK 


366 

work and heavy care — and then go down to meet the eyes 
of such a man as this who waited below for her? Miss 
Stoughton walked very fast as she went through the 
crowded streets; it was best to hurry to her work, and not 
to think too long on what might be taking place in that 
little drawing room of hers. 

Jane came down so quietly that Robert Black would not 
have heard her if he had not been on the watch. When 
she caught sight of him he was standing waiting for her, 
leaning upon the stout cane without which he could not 
yet wholly support himself. Her heart, at sight of the 
thin yet strong and undaunted look of his face, the whole 
soldierly pose of him in his uniform, gave one quick throb 
of mingled joy and pain, and then went on beating wildly. 
It couldn’t be real — it couldn’t — that after all both had 
been through they had met again — that they were both 
here, in this little London drawing room. Yet it was 
real — oh, thank God, it was real! 

It was dark outside, but lamplight and firelight shone 
on both faces as the two pairs of eyes looked into each 
other. 

‘‘ It is you,” said Robert Black, after a moment, while 
he still held Jane’s hand. can’t quite believe it — but 
It is you. Will you mind if I look at you very hard, for a 
little, to make myself sure?” 

“I’m not so sure it is you,” Jane said. She couldn’t 
quite return that eager gaze, but she could take stock of 
Lis appearance, none the less, as a woman may. “You 
must have been through very, very much.” 

“Not more than you. You are not changed at all, in 
one way; but In another way — you are. It is the change 
that I expected, but — it takes hold of me, just the same. 
You have seen — what you have seen.” 


A PEAL OF BELLS 367 

“Yes. And you have done — what you have done,” she 
answered. 

“We have very much to tell each other, haven’t we? 
And so little time, at the longest, to tell it in — till we meet 
back home. Fm sorry to be going first, again, but I 
have no choice. I wanted to wait for my regiment, but — 
I suspect Red’s friend Doctor Leaver of having a hand 
in these rigid orders to get out of the country.” 

“Aren’t the wounds doing well?” she asked him, with 
the nurse’s straightforwardness which was so natural 
to her now. 

“The wounds are all right, but they left a bit of trouble 
behind. It’s nothing — only a matter of time. The sea 
voyage alone will undoubtedly work wonders. Have you 
any idea when you will be coming?” 

“Within a month or two, I imagine.” 

“Really?” His eyes lighted. “But — ^Jane — Ican’twait 
even till then to hear all that you can tell me of yourself.” 

“Come and sit down. And — may I give you tea?” 

She laughed as she said it, and he laughed with her, a 
note of sheer joy at the absurdity of stopping to drink tea, 
when the time was so short. 

“Miss Stoughton will expect us to take it,” he admitted. 
“It’s unthinkable that we shouldn’t bother about it. 
Can’t we pour it away somewhere, where it will do no 
harm? On the fire?” 

“And risk putting it out? I can never remember how 
small an English fireplace is, in a house of this size, till I 
see one again. Really, I don’t think it would do you any 
hurt to take the tea. You’re not wholly strong yet.” 
And she quickly made and poured it. 

“Anything to get it over,” he agreed, and took the cup 
from her hand, drank, and set it down. ‘‘Now!” he said, 


RED AND BLACK 


368 

^and sat down beside her. “Jane, I can’t believe it, yet. 
Fve been haunting Charing Cross Station for days. I 
wanted to see you get off the train. I wanted to see you 
before you saw me, so I could look — and look — and look 
at you. It’s been so long to wait. . . . Well!” He 

quite evidently laid sudden and firm restraint on his own 
emotions — he didn’t mean to let himself get out of hand. 
“Tell me all about it. You can’t know how I want to 
hear.” 

“What will you have first?” 

“Begin at the beginning. Tell me — everything you 
must know I want to know about you. How it began — 
what came first — and what followed. And — most of all — 
where you are now.” 

They never knew how the hours passed — three hours — 
while they sat before the fire in the little London drawing 
room and lived again the year and more that had separated 
them. But when at last Robert Black, looking in amaze- 
ment at the watch upon his wrist, rose to go, he was in pos- 
session of that knowledge of Jane’s experience which had 
transformed him from a convalescent to a well man — or 
so it seemed. 

He took both her hands in his, and stood looking down 
at her. 

“I’m very certain that my ship doesn’t sail before 
Monday,” he said, “or I shouldn’t take the chance I am 
taking. Jane — I haven’t said a word of what is nearest 
my heart. I have a strange fancy that I want to say that 
word — to-morrow. Do you remember that to-morrow 
is ” 

“Sunday. Indeed I do remember it. I have thought, 
ever since I knew that I was coming, that if I could just — 
be in London on a Sunday — ^with you ” 


A PEAL OF BELLS 369 

His smile was like sunshine. “We’ll go to a service to- 
gether. Will you trust me to choose the place?” 

“I want you to.” 

“I’ll come for you in the morning,” he said. Then he 
lifted first one of her hands to his lips and then the other, 
said, “Good night!” and was gone, with a military sort 
of abruptness that was rather an emphasis of his former 
self than a change from it. 

It was easy to know what he had to say to her, that he 
had chosen to defer until the following day. It had been 
in all his manner to her; there was no need that he should 
tell her it was coming; it was a most characteristic post- 
ponement and a highly significant one. Why, since he 
could choose it, should he not select the great Day of the 
week on which to say the words which he was not less 
eager to speak than she to hear? That he should do so 
could but show her how sacred an event it was to him, nor 
fail to make it quite as sacred to her. 


CHAPTER XXII 

IN HIS NAME 

M orning, and the London streets, with Westminster 
lifting its stately heights above them. J ane had been 
quite sure that Black meant to take her there; somehow 
there seemed no place where they could so much want to 
go. Miss Stoughton had told her that all through the 
war the great Abbey, like St. Paul’s, had been thronged 
with the people who had gone, on week days as on the 
Sabbath, to pray, as the new war-time phrasing had it, 
“for those serving upon land and sea and in the air.” 
And now, early as they had left the little house almost 
under the Abbey’s shadow, they found the streets filled 
with those who like themselves were pressing toward the 
place where since the eleventh of November the nation’s 
gratitude for victory was being voiced in each prayer and 
song which rose from those sombre walls. 

So presently Jane found herself kneeling beside her 
companion, in this place of places which stood for the very 
heart of England. More than once on former visits to 
London she had entered at those doors, but then it had 
been only as a sightseer. Now, it was as a worshipper 
that she had come. Everything in her life was changed, 
since those former visits, and she herself was more changed 
than all. 

It was in the midst of a great prayer, one not read from 
the printed page but proceeding straight from the heart of 


370 


IN HIS NAME 


371 

one of Westminster’s best-loved administrants, that Jane 
felt a hand come upon hers. Fingers touched the fasten- 
ing of her glove, making known a wish. She drew off the 
glove, and the bare hands clasped and so remained through- 
out the whole period of kneeling through this and other 
prayers. Strangers were all about, pressed close in the 
rows of straight-backed chairs which were set even more 
thickly this day than there had ever been need before, 
yet Jane Ray and Robert Black were almost as much alone 
in the midst of the throng as they could have been any- 
where. It seemed to Jane, as that warm, firm hand held 
hers, that life flowed to her from it, so vital was the sense 
of union. Though not a word had as yet been said, the 
touch of this man’s hand seemed all but to speak aloud to 
her of the love that was only waiting the hour for its ex- 
pression. The promise of that clasp was to her only a 
shade less binding than the word that he should afterward 
speak. 

When the service had ended and they were upon the 
street again. Black did not lead her home. Instead he took 
her slowly about and about the place until the crowds 
had left it. Then he said, with a gesture toward the nave: 

‘'Shall we go back.? There will still be people about, 
but there’s room for all. I know a corner where I’m 
sure we can be quite alone. Somehow, Jane — I want it 
to be there. Don’t you?” 

She looked up, met such a glance as told her that the 
hour had come, and bent her head in assent. 

“Church walls never meant so much to me as now,” he 
said, very low, as they entered, “now, when the Church 
has come into her own as never before. What does it 
mean when the people crowd like that into her doors? 
What did it mean when all those soldiers, as you told me. 


RED AND BLACK 


372 

crowded into that war-ruined cathedral? Why, it must 
mean that the instinct to go where the Name of God is 
most deeply associated with every stone and window is 
something which is in every man who has ever heard song 
and prayer ascend from such a place. He can^t do without 
it — he can’t do without it. . . . And no more can we 

— nowJ^* 

He said no more, while he led her down the great nave, 
nearly deserted. People lingered here and there in famous 
corners, beside distinguished name on statue or tablet, but 
as Black had said, there was room for all in that vast 
space. And presently they had come to a spot behind a 
stone column where they were in sight of none, and all 
were far away. Black took Jane’s hand in his again, and 
himself drew off the glove. 

‘‘Jane,” he said, with that in his low tone which spoke 
his feeling, “it seemed to me that I must have our first 
prayer together in this place. I came to Westminster 
and this very spot, when our regiment was in London, 
more than a year ago. I knelt here, all alone, and asked 
God, as I had never asked before, that He would make Him- 
self real to you. He has done it, as you have told me, and 
I wanted to bring you here and thank Him, on my knees. 
Because now, we can work together — all the rest of our 
lives — in His Name. Is it so — ^Jane?” 

She could not look up. Great sobbing breaths caught 
her unawares and shook her from head to foot. She felt 
his arm come about her, felt his hand press her face against 
his shoulder, and there, for a few minutes, she cried her 
heart out. He held her silently, and with such a tender 
strength that it seemed to her that she had come into some 
wonderful refuge, such as she had never dreamed of. 
All the tension, all the weariness, all the heart-wrenching 


IN HIS NAME 373 

sights and sounds of the last year, had come back to her 
in one overwhelming flood at his words, as they had come 
many times before. But never, at such times, could she 
let go; always she had had to hold fast to her courage and 
her will, lest giving way weaken her for the pressing, 
unremitting tasks yet to be done. In the old, ruined 
cathedral a month before, she had had all she could do 
to keep control and not suffer a very hysteria of reaction, 
such as, alone among those hundreds of men, would have 
done both herself and them a harm. But now — she 
knew for the first time in her independent, resourceful 
life, what it might mean to lean upon an arm stronger than 
her own, and to feel, as she was momently feeling more 
sustainingly, that another life was tied so closely to her 
own that neither sorrow nor joy could ever shake her 
again that it should not shake that life too. 

By and by the storm passed. No longer did she want 
to weep — a great peace came upon her. She stood still 
within the right arm which held her — the uninjured arm — 
she didn’t know that he could not lift that left arm yet nor 
use it beyond slight effort. Now, at last, he spoke. 

‘‘Will you kneel with me, here? No one will see — and 
if they did — everyone prays now.” 

So they knelt, and Robert Black poured out his heart 
in a few low-spoken words which, if she had still been un- 
believing that they could be heard, must have stirred her 
to the depths. As it was, convinced past all power of 
sceptic argument to shake, Jane’s own soul spoke with his 
to the God who had brought her where she was. 

With the last words his hand came again upon her cheek 
and turned her face gently toward his. His lips sealed 
his betrothal to her with a reverent passion of pledging 
which told her, more plainly than any words could have 


RED AND BLACK 


374 

done, that that life of his was now fully hers. It was the 
life of no pale saint, she well knew, but that of a man whose 
blood was red and swift-flowing, whose pulses beat as fast 
and humanly as her own. But he had chosen to devote 
that virile life to service in the Church, with the same ar- 
dour with which, during these months just past, he had 
given of his best to help defeat the enemies of that Church 
and all for which it stands. No fear for her now that 
service with him back on the old home grounds would be 
dull or tame or weak; it would call for the best she had to 
give. And she would give it, oh, but she would give it! 
She knew, at last, that no task of his in that service could 
seem to her uncongenial, if to him it was worth while. 

As they walked slowly back up the long, quiet nave, it 
was as from some high rite. At the door Robert Black 
turned and looked back into the dim distance of the great 
vaulted interior. Then he looked down into Jane’s face. 

'‘It’s done,” he said, with a smile which lighted his eyes 
into altars upon which burned holy fires of k)ve and joy, 
“and never can be undone. And when you’re home 
again — oh, please promise me — we’ll have — the rest of it 
— ^without any delay at all?” 

“ I promise.” The smile she gave him back, he thought, 
was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

At the door of the little house under the shadow of the 
great Abbey, Miss Stoughton met them with a message, 
sent in haste from Dr. John Leaver, forwarding Black’s 
orders to sail that night. 

“But if,” he said, standing with Jane at the last mo- 
ment, alone with her in the small drawing room, “by any 
strange happening this should be all that we ever had of 
each other in this life, we have had — it all! Jane, we have 
had it all — all the best of it!” 


IN HIS NAME 375 

“Yes!*’ she breathed it. “But” — she lifted her face 
and whispered it — “I want — a life-time to say that in!” 

“So do I — bless you! — and we shall have it — somehow 
Fm very sure. God keep you safe, my Best Beloved, I 
know He will!” 

Then he went away, limping a very little with his cane, 
but walking very erect and looking as if he had won all 
the wars of all the worlds. He could hardly have been so 
happy if he had. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE TOWN WAS EMPTY BEFORE 

O F course Fm going down to New York to see him in!’’ 

I shouted Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns. He waved a 
cable message in his good right hand. “What did I wire 
Leaver to wire me the date for, if not so I could be on the 

pier yelling when that darn chaplain of the nth gets 

in? Why, if Cary Ray’s word is to be trusted. Black’s 
come through hell, same as the rest of ’em. Be there? 
You let Fll be there.” 

He was there. Nothing could have stopped him. He 
wanted to see instantly for himself that those shoulder and 
thigh injuries of which Leaver had written were not going 
to leave any serious or permanent results. Besides — oh, 
yes, he wanted to see the man himself, his friend, — who 
had faced death for him, as every soldier who went had 
faced it, for those who were left behind. He wanted to see 
Robert McPherson Black, and look into those keen, dark 
eyes of his, and see break over the well-remembered clean- 
cut face that smile which Red knew the first wave of his 
arm would bring. _ 

People on that pier had to make way when a certain 
chaplain came down the gangway. A big man with a 
red head politely but irresistibly put them aside from his 
path, and they saw him grasp the chaplain’s hand. They 
didn’t hear much, but they saw that two friends had met, 
376 


THE TOWN WAS EMPTY BEFORE 377 

The very silence of that first instant told the story of a 
glad reunion. 

Later, the words came fast enough. When Red could 
get Black to himself his first qu^tions were pointedly 
professional. Satisfied upon the items he had wished 
made clear, he turned his attention to making his welcome 
manifest. 

‘T don’t want you to think Fve lost my head,” he said, 
in the^ taxicab which was taking the two men to their 
train. Black was on furlough; the way had been made 
clear for him to go at once, though he was to rejoin his 
regiment when it came home later, pending his and his 
men’s discharge. “But I’m just so plain glad to have you 
back I’ve got to say it, and say it out loud. I knew well 
enough when you went you wouldn’t play safe, over there 
— and you haven’t.” 

“Just how much use,” inquired Black, looking him 
straight in the eye, “would you have had for me if I had 

“Not much.” 

“Well, then ” 

The two laughed, as men do when there is real emo- 
tion behind the laughter. Red let his welcome go at that 
for the present, and plunged into talk about the armistice 
and the present condition of things. But late that night, 
Vfhen Black having reached the haven of Red’s home, after 
a quick journey by the fastest train over the shortest 
route, was sent to his room at what Red considered a 
proper hour — midnight — he had wanted to sit up until 
morning, but he considered Black still a convalescent, 
and now in his charge — Red gave his friend his real wel- 
come. To this day Black preserves a scrawl upon a certain 
professional prescription blank, which was pushed under 
his door that night just before he switched off his light. 


RED AND BLACK 


378 

All the evening he had been made to feel how they all 
cared. Mrs. Burns had given him the most satisfying 
of greetings; the Macauleys had rushed in to see him; 
Samuel Lockhart had called him upon the telephone to 
make an appointment for the morning. His whole parish 
would have been in to wring his hand if Red had not 
kept his actual arrival a secret for that night except to these 
chosen few. But nothing that anybody said or did gave 
him half the joy that he found in^those few words written 
slantwise across the little white slip with R. ^P. Burns 
name and address printed at the top and no signature at 
all at the bottom. Considering that day, now almost three 
years back, when Robert Black had first looked across the 
space between pulpit and pew and coveted the red-headed 
doctor for his friend, and taking into account all the dif- 
ficulties he had found in getting past the barriers Red had 
set up against him, it was not strange that his heart gave 
one big, glad throb of exultation as he read these words: — 

“ The town was empty before — it^s full now, though not 
another blamed beggar comes into it to-night J* 

Two months later Jane came home, to find Cary there 
before her, with Fanny as his bride. They had been mar- 
ried in Paris, ‘'with all the thrills,” as Cary said, beaming 
proudly upon the slender figure in the French frock beside 
him, as he described the wedding to his sister. A few 
days later Robert Black and Jane Ray themselves were 
quietly married at the home of Dr. Redfield Pepper Burns 
and went at once to the manse,: which had been made 
ready for them by the united efforts of Mrs. Burns, Miss 
Lockhart and Mrs. Hodder, Black’s former housekeeper. 

At the wedding breakfast, Cary, self-appointed master of 


THE TOWN WAS EMPTY BEFORE 379 

ceremonies, rose in his place. He looked around at the 
little company, his eyes resting first on one and then 
another, till he had swept the circle. Then he made a 
speech, which he always afterward asserted to be his 
masterpiece in the way of rhetorical effort, struck off, as 
it was, on the inspiration of the hour. 

Getting up in the correspondent’s uniform which it had 
pleased him to put on once more for the occasion, since 
Black, as yet undischarged, was obliged still to wear the 
olive-drab with the cross upon the collar, Cary began: — 

“In view of the fact that the bridegroom is still in O. D., 
it seems to me that it ought to be known to you people 
what it looks as if he never meant to tell you for himself 
It’s only by chance that I found it out, but, by George! 
I’m going to tell you, since he won’t.” 

He walked around to Black, and laid hand upon the 
topmost button of his new brother-in-law’s tunic. Black 
put up a hand and attempted to restrain him, but it could 
not be done, without a fight. He therefore submitted, 
the colour rising in his cheek, while Cary unfastened the 
tunic and threw back its left side, whereupon a certain 
famous war medal for distinguished service became visible. 

“My faith!” burst from Red’s lips. “I knew it! But 
I never dared ask.” 

“The wearer of this,” Cary went on, while Black’s eyes 
fell before the glow of joy he had caught in Jane’s, “went 
over the top with his men every blooming time they went,* 
till Fritz finally got him. But before the shrapnel that 
put him out at last left the guns he had brought in wounded 
under every sort of hot fire, had taken every chance there 
was, and that last day — turned the trick that brought him 

this, ” and Cary laid a reverent hand upon the medal. 

“It happened this way ” 


380 RED AND BLACK 

‘‘No — please I ” began Black quickly, turning in 

protest. “ Not now — nor here ” 

But Cary wouldn’t be restrained. “Now — and here, 
by your leave, Bob, or without it. I won’t go into details, 
if you don’t like me to, but I will say this much: The 
story concerns a machine gun on our side which had lost 
its last gunner, trying to put out a machine-gun nest of the 
enemy’s which was enfilading our men and mowing them 
down. This Bob Black of ours comes up, jumps in, and 
keeps things going all by himself till — the spit-fire over 
there was silenced. It may not have been the proper deed 
for the chaplain — I don’t know — but I do know that he 
saved ten times more lives than he took — and I say — 
here’s to him — and God bless him ! ” ^ 

The toast to which all had risen was drunk in a quiver- 
ing silence, with Jane’s hand upon her husband’s shoulder, 
and her proud and beautiful eyes meeting his with a glance 
which said it all. 

Then Black rose. “Sometime, Cary,” he said, with a 
glance, “I’ll be even with you for this. Sometime I shall 
have found out all the chances you took, and I’ll recite 
them on some public occasion and make you wince as you 
never winced under shot and shell. But while we are 
drinking toasts — ^in this crystal clear water of our wedding 
feast which is better than any wine for such an hour — 
I want to propose one which is very near my heart. Not 
all the war medals that ever were struck would be big 
enough or fine enough to pin upon some of the breasts 
that most deserved them. One man I know, who desper- 
ately wanted to go across and take his part in the salvag- 
ing of life from the wreck, but couldn’t go, nevertheless 
contributed one of the most efiicient means to saving life 
that has been used by some of the best surgeons there.' 


THE TOWN WAS EMPTY BEFORE 381 

And I want to say — ‘here and now’ — as Cary says — that 
I consider it took more gallantry on the part of this same 
red-headed — and red-blooded — fellow to stay here and 
carry on, as he did, with speeches and loan-raising, and 
all the rest of the unthanked tasks that he put through 
at heavy cost to his own endurance, than to have gone 
across, as he longed to do, and won medals by spectacular 
work that would have made his name famous on both 
sides of the water. So here’s to Dr. Redfield Pepper 
Burns, bearer of a heavier cross than I have ever borne, — 
and winner of one more shining. And I, too, say — God 
bless him!” 

They looked into each others’, ^eyes, these two, across the 
table, and Red’s eyes fell before the light that was in 
Black’s. It was not only the light that his wedding day 
had brought there, it was the light of a friendship which 
should last throughout these two men’s lives, and bless 
both, all the way. 


THE END 


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